


Unexpected Consequences

by UMdancer98



Category: Batman (1966), Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMdancer98/pseuds/UMdancer98
Summary: Teenage minds are so very vulnerable. Even the one belonging to an experienced crime-fighter has its limits.
Comments: 40
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

** Chapter 1: **

“ _ROBIN_!”

Batman pounded on the solid metal door that had just slammed shut, separating him from his fourteen-year-old partner. There was no handle or window and it was flush with the wall. He could faintly hear a tiny echo of Robin’s voice, calling his name from the other side of the thick steel.

The Caped Crusader was in a large, windowless room made of cement blocks, with the exception of the door. The unnaturally clean floor was cement and the flat ceiling above him was also cement. There was a single, clear bulb hanging two inches away from the ceiling that filled the room with light and suffocating heat. And there was no other visible exit.

Slowly, Batman stalked around the room, searching for any sign of a trap door or secret passage. He pushed on every block that he could reach, hoping to find one that opened a wall. Dropping to his knees, he crawled on the floor, examining every minute crack and sliding his hands along the edges. The ceiling was, by his estimation, forty-seven feet and seven inches away from him. There was no way to get up there; he didn’t have Bat-claws in his utility belt and there were no beams around which he could secure a Bat-a-rang.

Batman stood up again and glared at the steel door, arms folded across his chest and mind creating then rejecting idea after idea. There was a major flaw in every single plan – the lack of a discernible exit. 

The Dynamic Duo had been in virtually inescapable traps before, but they were usually working on a solution together. Batman’s mind was sharp and logical while Robin’s was quick and creative. The combination was perfect and had never failed. Close calls, yes, but never failure. But this time each crime-fighter was on his own.

* * *

_“BATMAN_!”

A quiet noise was the response to his yell and Robin decided that his older partner was pounding on the other side of the door. He pushed against it as hard as he could even though he knew it was useless. It was solid steel and there was no way either of them would be able to get through it.

The Boy Wonder was completely in the dark; his only source of light had been cut off when the door had dropped from the ceiling. There was no point in pounding and yelling; both were ineffective and a waste of energy.

Turning his back to the door, Robin decided to orient himself before trying to find a way out. He lifted both arms in front of him and, feeling nothing, swept them away from each other. Bones crunched into concrete as the teenager’s hands immediately hit the side walls. Ignoring the flash of pain that quickly receded, Robin walked his fingers along the walls and discovered that there was only two feet of space, on each side, between his shoulder and the concrete.

There was nothing to do but walk forward so he did. Keeping his hands on the side walls, the Boy Wonder slowly traveled through the darkness. After several minutes he noticed a glimmer of light shining from a curve in the tunnel. He turned the corner and walked into a small, octagon-shaped room made almost entirely of plexiglass. Both the floor and ceiling were cement but everything else was clear. Bright sunlight was shining through the windows and the view was magnificent. He was looking down at a valley full of sparkling, blue lakes and lush, green vegetation. It would have been enjoyable if not for the fact that he wasn’t here by choice. 

A loud noise assaulted his ears and he frowned. It had come from behind him and he didn’t have to turn around to discover the source of the sound. Another steel door had slammed shut, sealing him in the room that had no other visible exit.

Unintentionally imitating Batman, the Boy Wonder slowly walked around the room, searching for exits and pushing against the plexiglass to test for weaknesses. He found neither until he began crawling. There was a small crack in the floor on the east side of the octagon, with tiny, evenly spaced bars separating it into four miniature rectangles. It looked almost like a vent and he touched it with his right index finger.

_ZAP_

Obviously the vent was man-made because natural fissures in cement don’t shock a finger. Standing up again, Robin carefully checked the other seven sides of the octagon and discovered an identical opening on the floor in front of each one. 

“Hello, Bird Brain,” an ethereal voice echoed throughout the room and Robin glanced quickly around.

“Who are you? What do you want? What did you do with Batman?!” The Boy Wonder shouted the questions and cringed at the loud noises that reverberated around his small prison.

“You don’t know me and never will. Your Batty friend is fine and will not be harmed by me. As for what I want, well…”

There was a long pause and Robin became irritated. The voice was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. He quickly retrieved the extensive Bat-list of criminals filed away in the back of his intelligent mind and skimmed through the pages. None of the names fit the tone or cadence of this particular voice so why was it familiar?

“I need you to test something,” the voice suddenly continued.

Robin flinched. He had been so absorbed in his mental search that the sound had startled him.

“What do you want me to test?” the Boy Wonder growled.

Hopefully it wasn’t too scientific; that was his worst subject in school and the most frustrating part of his nightly homework. Even the ever-patient Bruce sometimes had to take a break when he was helping Dick with chemistry or, most recently, physics.

“How does a liquid become a gas, Bat-kid?”

“That’s easy!” Robin exclaimed. “Evaporation!”

“Impressive,” the voice stated condescendingly, and the teenager rolled his eyes. An elementary student could have answered that question!

“What happens when it rains outside, sidekick bird of a flying rodent?”

Confusion filled the face of the Boy Wonder. The answer that came to his mind was obvious, but it was also going to sound stupid.

“Um, everything gets wet?”

“Precisely! Well done!”

Frowning, Robin declared forcefully, “Just get to the point. What do you want me to test?!”

“This,” a smile filled the tone of the ghostly voice. “I’ll see you after the test.”

The teen was confused again as he looked around the room. Nothing was happening. How was he supposed to test whatever it was if there was nothing in the room with him?

_Holy Joker or Scarecrow or Poison Ivy!_

A thick, green gas had begun to slowly stream through the eight, miniscule grates. Two minutes later the cement of the floor had disappeared and the gas was swirling at Robin’s feet like dust in a gentle breeze.

Robin quickly took three steps to his left and pushed on the steel door as hard as he could. That was ineffective so he tried digging his fingers between the edge of the metal and the plexiglass window. It also proved to be completely unproductive so he turned around, sprinted across the ten yards separating him from the other side of the room and threw his entire body against the wall. The plexiglass shuddered but didn’t crack. Retreating to the door, the Boy Wonder repeated the action with no success. The third, fourth and fifth tries also yielded nothing and the teenager was becoming slightly concerned.

The dark green substance was whirling around his knees now and the smell of burning tires and sewer mold attacked his nose.

“Robin!”

A soft noise came from his left and the young crime-fighter raced to the wall on that side. The sun was bright and reflecting off the glass of a short building directly across from his prison. He was looking down, attempting to see the source of the sound, and noticed a flash of blue at one end. The color was suddenly at the other end of a hallway and the Boy Wonder realized that Batman was racing back and forth, probably attempting to escape from the same type of room that held the teenager hostage.

Was his partner being subjected to the same gas? The voice had said that Batman wouldn’t be harmed so the answer was probably negative. Placing his hands on the wall, Robin pushed against the material as hard as he could. He could clearly see Batman now; the man was standing still and pounding on a window. Didn’t he know that was useless?

Now the gas was at his chest and Robin understood that he wouldn’t be able to escape. He would just have to accept the consequences of the green stuff that was forcing itself into his lungs. The Boy Wonder was strong; he could last through whatever new drug some slightly familiar criminal was testing. Hoping it wasn’t fatal, Robin gave a thumbs up to his partner as the gas slipped over his head and filled up the room. Then he dropped to the floor and stopped moving.

* * *

While Robin was cautiously wandering down a dark hallway, Batman was pacing in frustration. There was no way out – the only exit was the solid wall of metal and it wouldn’t budge. No cracks in the floor, ceiling or any of the walls and no loose cement blocks that would move to reveal a secret passageway.

The room suddenly began spinning and Batman was tossed onto the ground. He tried to count the number of revolutions but there was no way of knowing where he had started. The movement abruptly stopped and the steel door slid up, revealing a hallway full of natural light. The Caped Crusader stood up and dizzily made his way to the opening. Once outside the room he leaned against the nearest wall and closed his eyes, waiting for the world to stop whirling around so quickly.

Thirty seconds later he opened his eyes. He was facing a long row of tall windows that looked out over a beautiful valley. Unknowingly, he and the Boy Wonder were presently staring at the same sparkling lakes in awe. The beauty of the view was breathtaking.

Escape, he needed to escape and find Robin. Batman had no idea who the villain was or what the person wanted. They had entered the building, following an anonymous tip about some type of violent criminal activity, and immediately been separated.

There was a door at the other end of the long hall and Batman raced toward it. He was disappointed to discover that it was the same style as the other one: solid metal with no handle or edges to pry open.

“Hello, Batman,” a soft voice cooed. It was slightly familiar but the hero couldn’t figure out why.

“Who are you? What have you done with Robin?”

“My identity doesn’t matter; you’ll never see me. As for your Bird Brat, he has willingly agreed to perform a test.”

“Let him go,” Batman growled.

“All in due time, Ca-ped Crusader, all in due time. I need him for six more minutes and then I will open the door to your room. Good luck finding him in my maze.”

“You diabolical fiend! What have you done to him?!”

“See for yourself, _hero_ ,” the voice sneered slightly before continuing. “His room is just above your current residence. Enjoy the show!”

“Let him go!” Batman demanded again but there was no answer. Turning his gaze to the sky, he could clearly see Robin racing around a room directly across from him. The boy was now slamming himself against one side of his prison. The wall didn’t even crack and Batman realized that it wasn’t mere glass. The weight of Robin’s muscular body being thrown against the side over and over would have shattered even a thick piece of glass.

The Caped Crusader suddenly realized why the Boy Wonder’s expression had become slightly panicked. Some sort of green, gas-like substance was filling his clear prison and Batman knew that this was a test his partner had not willingly agreed to perform.

He ran to the middle window, where he knew Robin would be able to easily see him, and began pounding on the glass.

“ _Robin!_ ” Batman yelled as he continued to pound.

His young partner immediately turned to face him and his eyes began searching the building. Two small hands began pushing against the wall as two pairs of blue eyes connected. 

The dark-green gas was at the Boy Wonder’s chin and Batman pounded harder. A gloved thumb shot up into the air as the substance enveloped the teenager’s head and the room disappeared in a cloud of green. 

“ _NO!_ ” Batman thundered.

He began pummeling the window with both fists and the glass unexpectedly shattered. The hero dropped to the ground and shielded his eyes with his cape. The noise of the explosion died down and another sound took its place. Metal scraped against cement and the door at the far end of the hall slid open.

Batman raced through the exit and straight into a semi-dark maze that was eerily similar to the catacombs in one of Catwoman’s many lairs. He grabbed the Bat-flashlight out of his utility belt, placed a reflective Bat-sticker on the closest wall and walked into the confusion of the maze.

* * *

**Three hours later:**

It was a complicated maze. Batman knew the precise formula for escape from a standard maze but had discovered that this one was anything but normal. The combination of turns and non-turns that usually led to the exit hadn’t worked. He had run into dead end after dead end and was utterly confused. That was an emotion that he had experienced very few times and he hated the feeling.

Robin’s room had filled with gas over three hours ago, Batman realized as he checked the Bat-watch on his right wrist. Even if the substance wasn’t fatal, the Boy Wonder could be sustaining irreparable damage to his brain or lungs or other organs.

There was a three-way choice ahead of him and Batman stopped. His last four decisions had been right, straight, right and straight. Should he continue the pattern or change directions? He turned left and groaned: he had found the reflective Bat-sticker at the entrance to the maze. Quickly retreating, the hero went right instead. Several minutes later he walked into another dead end. Retracing his steps to the Bat-sticker, Batman went back the way he had originally come from and took the first right. This, as Robin would say, sucked.

* * *

Robin slowly opened his eyes. The thick, green gas was now a light gray and dissipating quickly. He heard what sounded like a waterfall and felt soft grass underneath his body. What had happened to his plexiglass prison? How had he arrived at this much nicer location?

Nothing hurt – no headache, throbbing joints, nausea or anything else uncomfortable. That was highly unusual; he had never been subjected to a gas that had no harmful or painful consequences.

“Robin,” the same slightly familiar voice contained a soothing tone. “Time to get up so I can see the results of your test.”

He obediently sat up and was surprised. The Boy Wonder never did anything a villain told him to do unless Batman or an innocent person was being threatened.

“Stand up and take a stroll around the small lake on your right.”

The teenager stood up and felt his legs begin to move. One part of his brain, full of dark clouds and barely audible thunder, encouraged him to continue. But the other half – the brighter one – was yelling at them to stop. Indecision filled his body, followed by a power struggle in his mind. He took a step with his right foot but then froze. Five seconds later his right foot returned to its original position and the battle continued. Robin was going nowhere fast – a step forward, a pause and a step back.

“Stop fighting it, young man,” the voice demanded angrily, and the latter half of Robin’s brain reluctantly backed away.

The Boy Wonder ambled around the small, circular pond while attempting to resuscitate the sun in his mind. He knew he shouldn’t be complying with the criminal’s commands, but the lighter half of his brain refused to rejoin the fight. Small clouds grew larger and Robin began to feel completely helpless.

“The lake is deep, Birdy Boy. I hope you can swim because you are about to jump in. Walk to the edge in front of you and wrap the rope you find around your ankles. Tie it tightly then hop into the water. You must swim to the other side of the lake. GO!”

And Robin went. He used a Bat-knot and pulled it as tight as he could. Two jumps later he couldn’t feel the bottom and he began pulling through the water with his arms. The more he swam, the larger the lake became and the teenager suddenly realized that he wasn’t going to make it. His arms were already worn out and his legs refused to help even a little bit.

The keen mind of the Boy Wonder began to fight back as he started to panic. Turning around, he attempted to paddle back the way he had come. Now he was spinning in a circle and becoming dizzy. Waves began rushing over his head, his mind gave up again and his arms ran out of energy. Closing his eyes, Robin allowed himself to slip under the water and sink to his death.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: unintentional (forced) suicide thoughts/attempts throughout the rest of the story.

** Chapter 2: **

**Forty-six minutes later:**

He had finally found a door that wasn’t next to a reflective Bat-sticker. This one had a handle that turned easily when Batman twisted it. The door swung open and Batman’s eyes widened in shock. The obviously plexiglass windows were clear, the dark gas was gone, and his partner was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Robin!” he exclaimed quietly as he raced to the boy’s side and dropped to his knees. The chest was evenly rising and falling, the pulse was strong and there were no visible injuries. Putting his right hand on the small shoulder, Batman gently shook the teenager’s body.

“Wake up, chum!”

There was no movement, so Batman increased the volume of his voice and repeated the phrase. A flinch, a full-body shudder and then the Boy Wonder opened his clear, blue eyes.

“Batman?” he questioned softly and received a nod in reply.

“How do you feel?” the Caped Crusader asked, concern filling the tone.

“Tired,” the teenager sighed.

There was a long pause as Batman waited for further information.

“Okay, what else? Does anything hurt?”

Another long pause and Robin looked thoughtful. His mind walked itself down his body, examining it for injuries, and found nothing.

“No,” he grinned slightly. The expression quickly faded when an image of large waves slid across his mind.

“How did I get back here? Am I dead?!”

The last question was shouted in confusion and Batman raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You’ve been here the whole time, kiddo. No, you’re not dead. Why would you think you were dead?”

“I tied myself up and jumped into the lake,” the boy responded wearily. He ran his left hand through his dark hair then carefully sat up. The dizziness was unexpected, and Robin closed his eyes while waiting for his body to stop swaying.

The young hero looked like he was about to collapse so Batman wrapped his right arm around the small shoulders. _Tied himself up…jumped in the lake?!_

“If you jumped in the lake, why aren’t you all wet?” the Caped Crusader asked logically.

Opening his eyes and glancing down, the Boy Wonder replied, “I have no idea. I’m tired, Batman, _really_ tired. How many bad guys are there?”

Batman, in his concern for his young partner, had completely forgotten that they were here because of alleged criminal activity.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I haven’t seen any. I did hear a voice, although I couldn’t identify it.”

“Did it sound kind of ghostly?” Robin asked and received a confirming nod. “Well, let’s go investigate before I fall asleep again.”

Both members of the Dynamic Duo stood up. Batman wrapped his arm around Robin’s waist, but the teenager shook his head.

“Too easy to relax if you do that,” he mumbled sleepily. The Caped Crusader reluctantly removed his arm but decided to stay close, just in case.

Taking the lead, Batman strode to the door and stepped through. There was no sound from behind him and he glanced back. Robin was in the same spot, eyes closed and chin resting on his chest. He had fallen asleep while standing up.

Grinning, but with concern dancing around the edges of his eyes, the older hero retraced his steps and scooped up the younger hero. The teenager didn’t even flinch as his body gently flopped over the man’s arms. Turning toward the door again, Batman walked into the complicated maze for the second time. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take him four hours to get out.

* * *

**The next day:**

Dick slept for sixteen hours straight and was still drowsy when Alfred finally woke him up to eat something. He was currently sitting at the dining room table, his left elbow resting on the wood and his head propped up on his left hand. The spoon in his right hand had made it into the bowl of soup but had stayed there instead of going up to his mouth. The teen’s jaw suddenly went slack and his head dropped to the table, just missing the bowl and flipping the spoon into the air. A small portion of the soup jumped off the spoon and landed in Dick’s hair.

Bruce chose that moment to enter the room and he froze, staring at his ward in both amusement and concern. Alfred, already standing over the boy, looked at his older charge and chuckled.

“He’s merely asleep, sir. There are no injuries and his pulse is steady and strong.”

Frowning, Bruce replied, “But shouldn’t he be able to stay awake by now? He did take a _really_ long nap.”

“I realize that, Master Bruce, and it is a bit concerning. However, you said he was breathing whatever the substance was for at least three and a half hours. Perhaps this is a side effect, sir, a long-lasting side effect.”

A muffled groan came from the tablecloth and Dick lifted his head. His forehead was an inch off the table and Bruce strode to his side.

“’M tired,” he mumbled as his head dropped down again.

“No, come on Dick, it’s time to wake up,” Bruce lightly demanded. “Let’s go take a walk outside, get some fresh air into your lungs.”

“K,” the boy replied and somehow managed to get his body off the chair. Bruce reached out to steady him, but Dick was already shuffling toward the front door. The teenager abruptly stopped, and the man bumped into him.

“We out yet?” Dick sighed.

“No, young sir, you are not yet outside. Open your eyes, Master Dick, so you can see to walk through the door.”

Grabbing his ward’s shoulders, Bruce gently twisted him toward the front door that Alfred was patiently holding open.

“He’s right, Dick. You need to open your eyes. I need you to stay awake for at least an hour. I need to know you’re okay. Can you do that for me – one hour?”

“Suuuuuuure,” the boy slurred sleepily. He tripped over the small step that led outside but quickly regained his balance.

“You still have to open your eyes,” Bruce commented. Dick slowly obeyed and Bruce, who was standing in front of him, carefully studied his face. 

Both eyes were encased in a circle of red, as if they had been in the sun too long. The blue circles were surrounded by pointed crimson streaks and the dark eyelashes kept reaching for the boy’s cheeks. Everything else looked completely normal.

Frowning again, Bruce walked behind Dick and placed his hands on the small shoulders. He guided his ward off the porch and into the bright sunlight that was leaning toward the western horizon.

Why was he so tired? Dick couldn’t understand why his movements were so sluggish. It felt like he was a lump of wiggly jello; he had no control over his body. The only reason he was still stumbling along was because of the firm hold that his guardian had on his shoulders.

“Been hour yet?”

“No, Dick, it’s been less than five minutes.”

A strong hand gently grabbed the teenager’s chin and carefully shook his head from side to side. The motion made his head hurt and Dick squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Open your eyes, Richard!” Bruce demanded loudly and Dick, startled, quickly obeyed.

“What’s wrong with me?” he whispered, a touch of fear in his tone.

“It’s probably a side effect from the gas,” Bruce replied, “but I need you awake so we can try to figure it out.”

Nodding, Dick started walking. His guardian was right; the fresh air was clearing the cobwebs out of his mind and prodding his brain to become alert.

“Holy villain, Bruce, who did this?!” he suddenly exclaimed.

“I went back after putting you in bed and discovered nothing. Not even any evidence that we had been there. I don’t know who we’re dealing with but there are several criminals who are known for their toxic creations.”

“The gas was green – Joker. I thought I was drowning and about to die – a Scarecrow hallucination. The smell was atrocious, though, so it couldn’t be Poison Ivy. But…the voice I heard was only slightly familiar.”

“I think we may be dealing with someone new. However, since we have no clues as to the identity of the villain, we should continue our evaluation of _you_. How are you feeling?”

“I’m still tired but I can think clearly and,” Dick grinned, “form coherent sentences again.”

“Are you _sleepy_ tired or _physically_ tired?”

“Sleepy,” the teen immediately replied. “My muscles are practically begging me to use them, but my brain is winning this battle.”

“I think you should obey your brain. We don’t need a trip to the hospital because Dick Grayson fell asleep in the middle of a tumbling run and cracked his head open.”

They both chuckled at the image of a sleeping acrobat flying through the air.

Glancing around and then leaning in toward his guardian, Dick whispered, “Batcave?”

“Batcave,” the man quietly agreed, and they turned back to the Manor. 

* * *

**Several days later:**

Robin was flying around the high bar, executing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine he had recently watched on the sports channel. The moment he had seen it was the moment he had known that he had to try it. It was complicated and required his full attention. So, when Batman shouted his name, the teenager completely ignored the sound and prepared for the dismount.

“ROBIN! Don’t you dare try it! You’re not ready!”

Batman had also seen the routine and knew what was coming. A triple back dismount required an intense amount of strength and the Boy Wonder was still recovering from the effects of the green gas. He had been sleeping at least ten hours every night and Batman wasn’t allowing him to go on patrol. There was no way that Robin was going to have enough rotation for a triple. Even a double would be a stretch right now.

“ _ROBIN, STOP_!” he commanded even as he realized that it was too late. Robin had just let go of the bar and tucked his knees in to his chest. The boy was only at the level of the bar and would be landing flat on his back.

But Batman, for one of the few times in his career, was wrong. Robin didn’t land on his back because he only allowed himself to complete one rotation. He kicked out of the tuck when he saw the ground, landed perfectly and looked over at Batman with a grin.

“Did you say something?” he asked as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Growling at what he thought was a sarcastic comment, Batman turned away. Confused, Robin quickly went to his partner’s side. He didn’t understand why the man was seemingly mad at him.

“What did I do?” Robin asked and Batman stared at him in disbelief. “Did you say something to me while I was flying? Because I heard noise, but I blocked it out. Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking his head at his misunderstanding, Batman smiled at his partner. “I was trying to stop you from attempting the triple. You were ramping up your speed, so I just assumed that you were going for it.”

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence and Batman felt like he had to explain.

“It’s just that you sometimes have trouble listening to your body. And you tend to push yourself when you should be healing.”

It was Robin’s turn to stare in disbelief and Batman shook his head again.

“You know it’s true. How often have I had to _force_ you to stop training or _force_ you to stay home from patrol or _force_ you to keep a cast on some broken bone?! You have a high pain tolerance, everybody in this house knows that, and you want to go full out every time. You have always ignored your body’s warnings about what it can and cannot do. _That_ is why I thought you were going for the triple.”

Shrugging, Robin admitted, “That’s true. But I’m trying to do better!” he added defensively. “I could have added a twist or done a double, but I didn’t!”

“Thank you for that,” the Caped Crusader said with a slight smirk. “No flying without supervision for now. Understand?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” the Boy Wonder muttered under his breath. His eyes narrowed; he was perfectly capable of executing a simple high bar routine without a babysitter.

Batman knew exactly what his young partner was thinking. Perhaps _no_ flying was a little extreme. He decided to compromise.

“No _difficult_ flying without supervision. Better?”

“Fine,” Robin grumbled. “So, I guess the one I just did is out?” he questioned meekly.

“Only when I’m not here,” Batman replied and was not surprised when his partner raced back to the bar and began the complicated routine.

* * *

**Two days later:**

“…thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…” Robin was grunting out the number as he completed each pullup. His record was forty-six; he was almost there.

“…for…ty,” he gasped, his arms shaking vigorously. “For…ty…one.” His chin just barely made it over the bar, and he knew it was over. 

“Holy failure,” he muttered, dropping to the ground. The exhaustion in his arms he understood but why were his legs trembling?

“Robin? Are you alright, old chum?”

Batman landed on his cushion and saw his young partner standing on wobbly legs and struggling to catch his breath.

Holding up his right index finger, the Boy Wonder closed his eyes and began taking deep breaths. Several seconds later he could breathe normally again, and he opened his eyes.

“Forty-one, Batman! I only got to forty-one! I’ve been consistently at forty-six for two weeks – before the gas, anyway – and now I can barely do forty-one?! And why are my legs so shaky? I haven’t even used them for the last five minutes!” Robin flopped onto the thick, blue mat and swept his left hand across his sweaty face.

Batman was slightly concerned. Robin had been feeling much better. He was back to his normal six-hours-a-night sleeping schedule and could easily land a double back from the high bar. But his legs were shaking after doing pullups? A _very_ delayed side effect, perhaps?

Striding over to his partner, the Caped Crusader knelt down and began testing the strong muscles. Everything felt and appeared normal, other than the fact that the boy’s legs wouldn’t stop twitching.

“Does anything hurt?” the man inquired and received a shake of the head in reply.

“What’s wrong with me? What did that gas do to me?” Robin’s tone contained a tinge of fear and Batman sighed.

“I don’t know, Robin. I’ve been searching everywhere for information about the disembodied voice. If anyone knows anything, they aren’t admitting it. Not even after receiving threats of severe bodily injury.”

“The Bat-computer doesn’t know anything, either?”

“No, but we haven’t been able to give it much to go on – a vaguely familiar voice, green gas, a single death hallucination and extensive fatigue that lasted several days.”

“You’re right, that’s not much.”

Silence reigned as both crime-fighters became lost in their own thoughts. Batman was reviewing every tiny piece of information and Robin was trying to decide whether or not to attempt a high bar routine before going on patrol.

“I’m still going, right?” the Boy Wonder asked, suddenly worried that his partner was going to change his mind about patrol.

Batman stared at the teenager for a moment. He had been sure that Robin was okay to go but then this had happened. If the boy was in an extended fight, would he easily be defeated if the workout became too long?

“Let me think about it,” he finally answered.

“ _WHAT_?!” Robin exploded, exasperation filling the one word.

“What if this happens while you’re fighting? What if your legs suddenly decide to give up and you get hurt because of it?”

Batman was struggling to keep from yelling. Did Robin not see the danger?

“Okay, I get it.”

The Boy Wonder quickly gave in and the Caped Crusader was surprised. Usually the young crime-fighter would begin to argue and a loud disagreement would ensue. The immediate surrender only served to increase Batman’s concern. It meant that Robin was listening to his body and that was good. However, it also meant that Robin knew something was very wrong and he was worried. 

“We’ll figure this out, okay?” Batman said softly. He ruffled the boy’s dark hair and received a small grin in return.

“Sure, we will,” Robin replied with absolutely no confidence. It had been a week since the incident and they still knew nothing. The trail was cold; they weren’t going to figure it out anytime soon.

The older hero saw the discouragement on the face of his young partner and tried to lighten the mood.

“Hey, we’re the Dynamic Duo. We always figure everything out. This is a problem that might be more difficult to solve but we’ll find the solution.” 

“Sure,” Robin said again with a shrug. “We’ll find the solution…eventually. I may be old and gray before we do and then it won’t matter but sure, we’ll figure it out.”

“Chin up, old chum. We’ll catch a break soon. No flying while I’m gone tonight. Your legs might not be willing to solidly land a dismount and I don’t want you getting hurt. In fact, why don’t you just go up to the Manor and get ready for dinner? Tell Alfred I’ll be there soon.”

Nodding, Robin stood up and walked to the Batpoles. Batman carefully watched the movement, searching for any trembling or limping. The shakiness was gone, and the Boy Wonder’s strides looked completely normal. Hopefully they would remain that way.

* * *

**Midnight:**

“Robin, get up. Find a really tall tree and climb to the highest branch you can see. Grab it and start swinging around. You’re athletic, you can do flips. Swing around a few times and then let go and do some flips. Don’t land on your feet; go for your head instead.”

Dick opened his eyes and sat up, his heart pounding and horror racing through his veins. Someone had just told him to go kill himself, just like when he had allowed himself to drown in the lake. No, it had been a dream. But the voice had been so commanding, and he remembered that tone from his previous hallucination.

“Bruce,” he whispered. Bruce would know what to do. Jumping out of bed, Dick raced out of his room and down the hall to his guardian’s bedroom door. Knocking quietly, he waited for an answer. Then he glanced at his watch – midnight. Of course Bruce wouldn’t be in bed. He sprinted down the stairs, into the study and slid down his Batpole. 

“Batman!” he yelled as he landed. But the Batmobile was gone and the Batcave was empty. Robin ran both hands through his hair and tried to remain calm. Now he was hearing voices; that was just fantastic. Another side effect to add to the rather lengthy list.

“Robin, find a tree, do some flips and land on your head. NOW!” the voice commanded.

The Boy Wonder shook his head, trying to fling the voice out of his mind. It didn’t work; now he had a major headache and the voice was still there.

“You _will_ do this, Robin. Stop fighting and just do it. Make it easier on yourself.”

His mind chose to obey. Robin strode to the high bar and slipped off his gloves. Without chalking up, he went to the edge of the mat, sprinted toward the bar, jumped off the springboard and began to fly. Thirty seconds and fifteen giant swings later, the teenager released the bar and tucked in for the first flip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos!!!

The Batmobile sped into the Batcave and coasted to a stop. Batman climbed out and immediately removed his cowl. The night air was stifling, and his entire head was dripping with sweat. Drops of the salty liquid were assaulting his eyes, blurring his vision, so he quickly strode to the Bat-changing area and grabbed a Bat-towel. He heard a quiet creak as he was wiping his face. Instantly dropping the small Bat-towel, the Caped Crusader crept out of the changing room and visually examined the entire Batcave.

His gaze was focused on the Batpoles when he heard a second creak. Stepping completely away from the Bat-changing area, he visually swept the entire cave again. There was movement in the far corner, where the acrobatic equipment was located. Robin wouldn’t blatantly disobey a direct order, would he? Batman received his answer when he saw a flash of gold – his partner’s cape.

Fury filled his body. Robin had recognized the danger during their previous conversation but now here he was, swinging around the bar faster than Batman had ever seen him swing. The Boy Wonder suddenly let go and horror replaced the fury in the Caped Crusader’s chest. Robin had enough height for a quadruple but not enough momentum for even a double. The boy’s knees were sloppily bent and his arms were hanging out in the air. Instead of the tightly tucked ball that Batman was used to seeing, Robin looked like a free-falling spoonful of jelly.

Everything seemed to slow down as the older crime-fighter tried to sprint his way across the Batcave. His feet felt like they were made of concrete and the Batcave seemed to grow longer as he ran. He wasn’t getting closer; he wasn’t even moving! The younger crime-fighter was about to land on his head and there was nothing Batman could do about it.

* * *

A pair of gray, glassy eyes turned light-blue as Robin’s brain regained the upper hand. Those same eyes widened when he saw the ground rushing up to meet him. His limbs were flying recklessly around, and he wondered why he hadn’t tucked. The high bar laughed at him as he passed, and Robin became irritated. He reached out his left hand to slap the offending object but, at the last second, chose to grab it instead.

A gasp was torn from his throat as the teenager was yanked out of his free-fall. The momentum swung him around the bar again and his hand almost slipped off. Only the strength from years of training kept him there as he slowly swung to a stop. With a sigh of relief, Robin let go and fell limply to the floor.

“Robin!” Batman slid to a stop and quickly dropped to his knees. He was relieved to see his partner’s eyes open and clear. The boy’s breathing was slightly erratic but that was to be expected since he had almost fallen to his death.

“What were you _thinking_?!” the man demanded, fury again rising to the surface. “You could have _died_! You agreed to stay on the ground but here you are, disregarding not only a direct instruction but also your own safety! Are you some kind of…”

Luckily, Batman realized what he was about to say and managed to shut his mouth. Robin was not, never had been and never would be an idiot. The boy could be reckless, but he was one of the most intelligent teenagers that Batman had ever known. Also, saying something like that could have damaging repercussions that might never be resolved.

The Boy Wonder was staring up at him, fear filling his young face. His eyes were wide with apprehension and his body was tense. Batman took a deep breath and pushed the fury away. Robin was alive, seemingly uninjured and the consequences of his actions could be discussed tomorrow. 

“The voice, Batman,” Robin stated with terror in the tone. “I heard it again. It told me to…to…”

“To what?” the Caped Crusader demanded.

“To swing from a tree branch, do some flips and aim for the ground with my head!” Robin’s voice was trembling noticeably, and Batman’s jaw dropped open in shock. “I tried to stop it, I swear. I didn’t want to, I tried to find you, I couldn’t stop it. He can control me, Batman! Whenever he wants to and wherever I am, he can make me do anything and I can’t stop it!”

Robin was nearly screaming now, and Batman placed a hand on the boy’s chest in an attempt to calm him down. The other hand he ran through his own hair. This voice, and the substance it had fed to Robin, was now priority number one. It had to be taken care of immediately and he knew he couldn’t risk leaving the teenager alone for long periods of time.

“Okay,” the older hero released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “We’re going to…”

“Don’t,” Robin interrupted. “Don’t tell me that we’re going to figure this out. Saying it again doesn’t help anything. I’m scared, Batman, _really_ scared! The voice is going to succeed; for some reason it wants me dead and it’s going to find a way!”

Speechless was not a word that usually applied to the Caped Crusader. However, the hero had just been rendered speechless. His strong, capable, and tough young partner had just confessed that he was really scared. Robin _never_ admitted that; not even when he was kidnapped by Joker!

“Sorry,” the teenager muttered. “I, uh, shouldn’t have interrupted you and I shouldn’t have any doubts. I mean, you’re _Batman_! The World’s Greatest Detective and the smartest man I know. It’s _idiotic_ ,” he looked pointedly into Batman’s eyes, “for me to be scared. Sorry.”

“We. Will. Figure. This. Out.” Each word was crisp, strong and full of confidence. Batman was anything but confident right now but there was no need for his terrified partner to know that.

“Right,” Robin whispered. He removed Batman’s hand, stood up and walked to his Batpole. His body was slumped in dejection and Batman detected a slight shudder in the lithe frame. 

Standing up as Robin disappeared into the Manor via his Batpole, the Caped Crusader strode to the Bat-computer and re-entered all the information he had already given it. He was not going to sleep until this problem had been solved. If he did, Robin might somehow die, and he was not going to allow that to happen. Alfred needed to know, also, and Batman made a mental note to tell his butler in the morning.

_Ding._

Apparently, adding the information about Robin’s near-death experience had helped the Bat-computer come up with an answer. Batman grabbed the card from the exit slot and stared at it in disbelief. The green gas was identified as humatronic poison, whatever that was, and the person who had put it in Robin’s system was… _Bruce Wayne_?!

* * *

**Somewhere in Gotham City:**

The short, thin man with the salt-and-pepper hair frowned. The connection had been broken but he knew the Boy Wonder was still alive. He reluctantly admitted to himself that the kid was strong. Robin should not be able to resist the potent formula, especially since he had been exposed to it for nearly four hours!

The sidekick had automatically fought against the man’s commanding voice. Control had gone back and forth between the man and the boy. Just when the criminal had begun to think that he was winning, Robin’s resilient mind had overpowered the man’s control and severed the connection.

He pounded his fist, wrinkled and spotted with age, on the table in frustration. This was going to be harder than he thought. Killing Robin wasn’t the ultimate goal; he wanted Batman to feel pain. The pain of not being able to protect someone close to you. Forever having to live with the thought that you should have done more: been more careful in your observations, examined your surroundings more thoroughly, made sure to have a weapon handy. Always knowing that if you had been a little quicker or a little closer, that person would still be alive.

“It _will_ happen, Batman. Your kid won’t be able to repel me forever. His death is imminent, as is your eternal pain, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.”

Turning his attention back to the blue computer monitor, the man pushed several buttons on the keyboard and waited. Words slowly began appearing:

machine, educate, adjunct, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a.

_Nibor.a?!_

Well, he had the clues. Now he just had to figure out how to put the words together. What happened next depended on his ability to make sense of the random words.

* * *

**Wayne Enterprises – early morning:**

Bruce Wayne was sitting in his office at his large, ornate desk. His elbows were resting on the cherry-colored wood, his fingers steepled together and his mouth turned down in a frown. The millionaire was lost in his thoughts and didn’t even hear his door open.

“Uh, Bruce?” a quiet voice gently pulled him away from his musings and he looked up. Dick was standing in the doorway, chewing on his bottom lip and looking uncertain.

“Come on in, Dick. What’s wrong?”

Accepting the invitation, the teenager took one step inside and closed the door.

“I, um, saw the card. In the…you know. You should, uh, have a better hiding place if you don’t want me to find something.”

A slight grin accompanied the last sentence but quickly disappeared as the boy dropped his eyes to the ground.

Bruce grimaced. The card had given _his_ name as the perpetrator and, instead of tearing it up and throwing it away, he had tried to hide it. It wasn’t smart, he had to admit that, because how could he hide something from the boy who had been trained by the World’s Greatest Detective?

“So…I’ve been poisoned,” Dick continued in a whisper. “That’s, um, unfortunate.”

Standing up and striding over to his ward, Bruce put a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Dick flinched and the man almost removed his hand but decided against it. He locked the door with his other hand and pulled his ward farther into the room.

“You know it wasn’t me, right?” Bruce asked calmly when he decided they were in a spot where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Yeah,” Dick mumbled, still sounding a little unsure. “It’s just, um…” he trailed off, not knowing how to express himself.

“Just what, Dick?”

Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and refusing to meet his guardian’s eyes, Dick asked, “Why would the Bat-computer give us _your_ name?! I mean, is there another Bruce Wayne in this world? I only know one so I would really like to meet the other one; the one that can _control my MIND_!” The boy’s voice was rising the entire time and he was yelling by the time he finished.

The man wanted to wrap the boy in his arms and attempt to shield him from everything that was happening. But Dick had taken a step back, causing Bruce’s hand to drop off the small shoulder.

“I would never…why would you think…this is outrageous! Dick, you’re my ward and partner; why would I ever do anything like that?!”

“So, there’s another Bruce Wayne then, right?” The teenager was staring into the man’s dark-blue eyes, tears shining in his light-blue ones.

“The Bat-computer made a mistake. It still doesn’t have much…”

“ _IT DOESN’T MAKE MISTAKES_!” the boy thundered then dropped his head again. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“Dick, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe something is wrong with the inner workings of the machine.”

“I already checked it, several times,” Dick stated softly. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Well…” Bruce shook his head and grimaced, trying to come up with something.

“Do you have codes?” the boy raised his head and abruptly changed the subject.

“Codes?” Bruce was startled by the seemingly random question and he stared at his ward blankly.

“Yeah, you know, for using office machines and opening locked doors and things like that. Do you use codes?”

“We have a unique code for every person in the building. There are no individual machine or door codes. It makes it easier; you don’t have to remember fifteen different codes in order to get somewhere. If your personal code is cleared to enter my office, for example, then you simply type in your code at the door. No clearance means no access.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. Dick’s gaze was fixated on the wall behind Bruce and the man could almost see the wheels spinning rapidly in the boy’s intelligent mind.

“Do I have a code?”

“No. You don’t work here – employees only.”

“Could an employee give his code to someone else, a person who doesn’t work here?”

“Of course. We can’t control what people talk about. It would be nice to know that everything is completely secure but that would mean wiping memories at night and giving each person a new code in the morning.”

A small grin twitched at the corners of Dick’s mouth and Bruce released a quiet sigh of relief. He was glad to be off the subject of allegedly poisoning his partner, but he was also wondering where his ward was going with this line of questioning.

“There’s no other security system in addition to the codes?”

“Of course there is, Dick! You do know who you’re talking to, right? Have I ever been on the ‘less’ side of the paranoia scale?”

The grin slid across the teenager’s entire face this time and Bruce met it with one of his own. He started to glance at his watch but thought better of it. Dick needed him right now and that was more important than a meeting that he could reschedule anyway.

“So, what is it?”

“Simple things like hidden video cameras and badges. And more complicated things like fingerprint scanning and lasers in heavily restricted areas.”

“Do you ever have to do more than one thing to get through a door?”

“Okay, Dick,” Bruce sighed. He was becoming a little impatient and was struggling to keep it hidden. “Why are you asking about all of these things? What’s your point?”

“I’m thinking about breaking in tonight and I need to know the ins and outs of your security systems,” Dick replied with a small smirk.

Before Bruce could say another word, Dick unexpectedly turned around, walked to the door and opened it.

“Thanks for the information,” the teenager said softly, with a quick glance at his guardian. Then he left, striding down the long hall without looking back.

Bruce stood at the door, watching his young partner. 

_We need to talk about this when I get home._

Usually Dick would stop to chat with someone or stick his head in the door of another office to say a quick hi and goodbye. But this time the boy had his hands in his pockets and was staring straight forward. He didn’t even react when the teenager from the mailroom held up his fist for a bump.

The millionaire was both irritated and surprised. There was no call for rudeness; Dick could have at least given the kid a flick of the head. But he also could have used the elevator instead of turning toward the stairs. The stairs…?

* * *

“Ready to fly, Robin?”

The voice startled him, and Dick quickly turned away from his guardian. He needed to get out of here before something happened. As if from far away, he heard himself thank Bruce for the information then found himself striding down the hall.

“Where are you, Birdy boy? Some sort of office? What floor are you on?”

The questions were filling his head and Dick clenched his teeth. The voice couldn’t see where he was, that was good.

“Wayne Enterprises? Interesting….”

But the voice could, apparently, read his mind. _Awesome._

“It _is_ awesome, isn’t it Bat-boy? I’m getting stronger and you’re getting weaker. Take the stairs.”

The last sentence was an obvious command and a hint of gray slid into the teenager’s blue eyes.

He didn’t want to, but Dick turned left at the end of the hall. The stairwell was three doors away and the teenager began to sweat. It was happening and he realized that he probably should have stayed with Bruce. But if Bruce had poisoned him…no, Bruce wouldn’t poison him. That was preposterous.

“Not so preposterous, Boy Wonder. How did you get his name? The infamous Bat-computer, perhaps?”

“Shut up!” Dick demanded quietly but the voice just laughed at him. He had arrived at the stairwell and he put his hand on the round doorknob.

“NO!” he yelled, but it was a hesitant yell, not at all forceful. He pulled his hand off the knob, but his fingers began twitching and reaching for the door.

Familiar footsteps were striding toward the end of the hall and Dick grabbed the handle again. He glanced back, saw his guardian, threw open the door and raced up the stairs. Two floors later he was opening the door to the roof. He sprinted across the concrete to the edge and stared at the street that was eighty stories beneath him.

The battle began anew. Part of his brain yelled at him to turn around and leave but his right foot was hovering in the air, just past the edge of the building.

“Stop fighting, little one. Just take a walk, like you did around the lake. It’s a beautiful day, just take a stroll around the building. You have to step forward to begin, though. Take the step, Robin!”

The last sentence was an order and Dick’s brain retreated again. His right foot moved farther away from the building and the teenager stepped onto air. 

He was about to fall, Dick could feel it, but for some reason he didn’t care. The voice was right; it was a beautiful day for a stroll. His left heel released its hold on the ground and the boy spread his arms wide open. What a beautiful day….


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!

Bruce stood in the doorway to his office, indecision plainly evident on his face. There was nothing wrong with taking the stairs, right? But Dick had never taken the stairs. In all the many times that he had been here, the teenager had not once turned left at the end of the long hall.

Alfred would be waiting in the lobby, watching the elevator. Bruce knew this and knew that Dick also knew it. There would only be one reason to take the stairs: the voice. Maybe that was why their conversation had come to such an abrupt halt. The boy had heard the voice, was a little unsure about his guardian and had decided that leaving was a better choice than staying in the vicinity of someone who _might_ have poisoned him.

“Dick,” he whispered as he began walking down the hall. Jogging was a better word and his employees were staring at him like he was going crazy. Because why else would their boss be almost running down the hall in his expensive suit and shiny shoes?

“NO!”

The word was loud but tentative. Bruce turned the corner and saw his ward standing at the door to the stairs. His right hand was shaking as it reached for the handle. Dick glanced back and Bruce was shocked to see glassy eyes that were the color of storm clouds. The teenager threw open the door and raced down, no, he was going _up_ the stairs. The roof!

Bruce tore off his suffocating tie as he raced to the door and sprinted up the stairs. He burst through the exit to the roof and froze. Dick was standing on one foot with his other one stretched out over the street. The man watched in horror as the boy opened his arms and leaned forward.

“ _DICK, STOP_!” he shouted, the tone full of panic. He was too far away, he wouldn’t make it in time. But he was sprinting across the cement anyway, yelling his ward’s name over and over.

Either Dick didn’t hear him or he chose to ignore him. Bruce would never know, he realized, as the boy’s left foot eased off the building and the small body disappeared.

* * *

It was working this time, the man could feel it working. Half of the boy’s brain was in full panic mode, yelling at him to step backwards instead of strolling forward. But the criminal had a firm hold on the other half and was urging him to continue. He couldn’t tell how close the kid was to falling but the urgency of the word the brain was shouting – stop – meant that it would happen soon.

_What a beautiful day…._

“Yes, Bat-kid, it’s a beautiful day. One that Batman will remember forever. Is he there watching you? If he is, wave goodbye.”

The man cackled as the connection began to sever. The boy’s death was imminent and soon he would hear people screaming and sirens wailing. He really, _really_ hoped that Batman was at least in the vicinity of the scene. The idea of the Caped Crusader watching his little sidekick fall to his death made the criminal laugh so hard that he burst into tears.

The line between his mind and that of the boy was cut off completely. The man sat down and began listening carefully, waiting for the joyous sound of a body hitting the ground. What luck that the boy had, for some unknown reason, gone to Wayne Enterprises. It made it so much easier to bask in the glory of his triumph when he was so close to the action.

“Bye, Robin.” Another chuckle escaped through the evil grin on the man’s face. “And farewell, Batman. If only you had saved my wife, we wouldn’t be here right now. Your kid would still be alive with no poison in his system.”

The man paused as he thought of his lovely wife. A look of complete sorrow washed over his features and several tears slid down his cheeks. He had been so close, but Batman had been closer. The “hero” should have saved her instead of trying to hold on to both of them. Her satin gloves had been slippery; both he and Batman had lost their grip. But if Batman had let go of _him_ and grabbed _her_ , she would still be alive. What a waste of a beautiful young life.

“You will never find me; my trail is completely concealed,” the man suddenly continued. “Bruce Wayne is your only suspect. How fortuitous that Robin decided to walk off the building owned by that particular millionaire. Enjoy the rest of your grief-filled life,” he snarled as he pictured Batman kneeling by his young sidekick.

He took a mental picture of a sobbing Batman sitting beside the broken, mangled body of the “Boy Wonder” and hung it up on a wall of his brain. His revenge would be complete as soon as he heard the thud.

* * *

“…wave goodbye.”

The voice suddenly disappeared, and Dick opened his eyes. The gray mist that was clouding his vision disappeared, allowing the normal light-blue to shine through. All he could see was the black asphalt of a Gotham City street, with tiny shapes moving around like busy ants. What was he doing upside down? And why was he at least seventy stories high?!

“DICK!”

That was the voice of his guardian and Dick lifted his head. His eyes widened when he saw his predicament. Somehow his right knee had landed on the railing of a fire escape and his foot was wrapped around the nearest rung. He was swaying gently but he could feel that he was secure. And Bruce was nowhere in sight. 

Quickly flipping his left leg up, Dick placed it in the same position as his right and dropped his head again. That one movement had taken a lot of energy and he wanted to go to sleep. But the blood was rushing to his head, giving him a major headache, and he needed to have his entire body on the fire escape before his feet decided to let go.

This was just like flying on an immobile trapeze. Dick began swinging his body, faster and faster, until he had enough momentum to pull himself up and over the railing. He hit his head on the third step when he flew off the railing, but a bruise was better than being dead.

Gasping from both the exertion and the fear, the teenager allowed himself to drop to the landing. It would just be a short rest; then he would climb the ten or so stories up to the roof. Bruce would be there waiting, Dick was absolutely positive about that, and the boy realized that he wanted a strong pair of arms wrapped securely around his small body. But first, just a short rest.

* * *

Dick was falling to his death and Bruce didn’t want to look over the edge of the roof. He already knew what he would see: a splash of red on the white sidewalk that was eighty stories below him.

But he looked anyway, and his reluctance turned into elation. His ward was stuck on the fire escape, both legs wrapped around the railing and both arms hanging down. The boy wasn’t dead but would probably resume his fall soon if somebody didn’t get to him. Quickly opening the gate that led from the roof to the first set of stairs, Bruce began descending the steps as fast as he could.

Suddenly the teenager’s body was rapidly swinging back and forth. Was Dick in control and attempting to save himself or was the voice telling him to untangle his legs and drop to the ground? Bruce received his answer when the small body flew up and over the railing. There was a ‘thud’ and then complete silence.

His ward was now only five stories away and Bruce began jumping over the corners instead of rounding them. He caught a glimpse of dark hair and pushed himself to go faster. Finally, he made it to the last set of stairs and he slowed his pace so he wouldn’t run the boy over. Dick was stretched out on the last three steps, eyes closed and body motionless.

There was a streak of red on Dick’s forehead; that was the first thing Bruce noticed. Upon closer examination he determined that it was a small gash that wouldn’t need stitches. The huge, purple bump was more concerning than the blood.

“Dick,” he whispered, his hands hovering over the limp form. The blue eyes immediately popped open and Bruce was relieved.

“Bruce?” the boy mumbled, and the man nodded.

“Talk to me, Dick. What hurts?”

“Forehead, right knee and a pounding headache. What happened?” Dick raised his right hand and touched the streak of blood.

“You walked off the roof, Dick. I was calling your name but you didn’t even turn around. You just…” Bruce’s voice faltered as the image of his ward’s body disappearing rushed through his mind.

“I…the voice…he can read my mind!” Dick was trembling and tears were filling his eyes. “I can’t do this, Bruce, I can’t do it! Help me… _please_!”

“I’m trying, kiddo, but I’m hitting dead ends everywhere I turn. I know what caused this, but I don’t know how to counteract it.”

The man’s voice was full of guilt; he was _Batman_ , he should be able to find the cure!

“I don’t want to die, Bruce!” Dick almost yelled. He sat up and grabbed his head with both hands. “Please don’t let me kill myself,” he whispered, the tone full of despair.

And Bruce did what Dick had been hoping he would do. He wrapped both arms around his young ward and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tightly.

“I will stay with you as often as I can and Alfred will be with you while Batman searches for the cure. We will _not_ allow you to die, kiddo, I promise you that. And you know I _always_ keep my promises.”

There was no answer and Bruce assumed, correctly, that Dick was attempting to control his emotions.

“It’s okay to let it out, Dick,” the man whispered. “Cry, hit me, scream, whatever you need to do. Don’t keep it inside.”

_Hypocrite._ Bruce rolled his eyes at himself and tossed the thought away.

There was a muffled sound, Bruce couldn’t quite tell what it was, and then the boy raised his head. His wide, blue eyes were red but there were no tear tracks on his cheeks.

“You want me to hit you?” Dick asked skeptically.

“If that’s what it takes to release whatever it is that you’re feeling, then yes. Hit me.”

The teenager threw a half-hearted punch at the man’s shoulder and chuckled quietly.

“Thanks, that really helped,” he snickered sarcastically. “I’m good now. Are we going up or down? I kind of want to get off this fire escape sometime soon.”

“Up is closer but are you okay with that? We can break a window, instead.”

“Bruce Wayne doesn’t break windows so I guess we’re going up. You’ll be right behind me?”

“Of course. I’m not going to let anything happen, okay?”

“What if I hear…what if I try…”

“Then I’ll wrap you in a bear hug and not allow you to move until you have control.”

“It’s getting harder to fight.”

“I’ll help you, kiddo. I won’t let go until I know for sure that you will be safe. Ready?”

Sighing heavily, Dick stood up and grabbed the railing. Guardian and ward began the long trek up to the roof. Bruce stayed one step below the entire time, ready for anything. Ten minutes later they were going through the gate and onto the roof.

“You were supposed to _DIE_! Why aren’t you dead?!”

“Bru…uce,” Dick gasped, his eyes widening with fear.

“I’m here and I’ve got you.” The man immediately sat down and pulled the boy into his arms. “I’m not letting go, I promise.”

Dick was suddenly struggling to escape from his guardian’s strong grasp. Bruce tightened his grip, forcing the athletic muscles to work harder. The teenager quickly became tired, making it much easier to regain control.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, there’s no need to apologize,” Bruce commented quietly while slowly releasing his ward’s body. Pulling the boy to his feet, the man wrapped his arm around the small shoulders and pushed him toward the door that led inside.

* * *

There were no screaming noises, no cracks signifying broken bones, no wailing sirens. Something had gone wrong. Had Batman been close enough to save his kid? Growling, the man stood up and strode to his window. Pedestrians were casually walking and cars were speeding past the buildings. Nothing had happened.

Opening his mind, the criminal searched for the connection. It was weak and slightly painful so he stepped back. Five minutes later he tried again and heard the frightened tone of the Boy Wonder. That was good. The words, however, were mushing themselves into each other so he couldn’t understand what the kid was saying.

He was suddenly in the boy’s head again.

“You were supposed to _DIE_! Why aren’t you dead?!”

The struggle was much shorter this time. The teen’s brain was stronger than it had been previously; the man had control for less than two minutes. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The boy was supposed to get weaker, not stronger.

The words would help him; he just had to figure it out. There had to be some sort of link, no matter how obscure. He just had to put the puzzle together. But the seven words were so random!

machine, educate, adjudicate, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a

“The _machine_ will _adjudicate_ and _disregard_ any _allergic_ reaction _._ I will _educate_ my dep…no, _compartment._ But what is _nibor.a_?!”

Shaking his head in frustration, the criminal grabbed a pencil and began scribbling phrases and sentences on the pad of paper in front of him. It was imperative that he figure this out soon. These words, configured correctly, would give him the key to maintaining complete control over Robin’s mind.

* * *

**One hour later – the Batcave:**

Dick hissed in pain as Alfred’s fingers prodded the bump on his head. He was sitting on one of the medical tables, allowing the butler to examine him. Batman was ten feet away, working on the Bat-computer and casting furtive glances in the boy’s direction every thirty seconds.

“Sorry, Master Dick. I’m trying to be as gentle as possible.” There was a quick pause and then the butler stated, “Bat-ice will do the trick there. No need to worry about it, young sir. Now, ehm, what’s this about your right knee?”

“I don’t know what happened. When I woke up, my right leg was the only thing keeping me in the air.”

“It sounds to me as if your knee was forced to accept all ninety-two pounds of you when it hit the railing. You’re very fortunate, Master Dick, that it was not blown out. Let’s hope nothing is torn.”

The old man’s deft fingers began feeling the ligaments and tendons in the boy’s knee. After several minutes of manipulation, Alfred declared that Dick’s anterior cruciate ligament had sustained a grade one sprain. It would need to be supported with Bat-wrap for at least two weeks, but no further treatment was necessary.

“Is there anything else, young sir?”

“My ribs are kind of sore. I don’t think I hit them on anything and I wasn’t in a fight so I don’t know what happened there, either.”

“Up with the shirt then, Master Dick, and we’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

The teenager willingly complied, and Alfred quietly gasped at the sight. Dick’s entire torso was black and blue. There was not an inch of pale skin anywhere. Batman glanced up when he heard the soft noise.

“What the…?” Batman shouted. Dick hadn’t said anything about his torso when Bruce had asked about pain on the fire escape. He strode to his partner’s side and gently touched the darkest area. Dick flinched and Batman backed away, regret sliding across his face as he realized the cause of the bruising.

“I am so sorry, kiddo,” the man stated softly. “I didn’t know I was holding you so tightly. I should have…”

“Better bruised than dead,” Dick muttered, interrupting Batman’s line of thinking. “What you should have done is exactly what you did. If this is what it takes to keep me from killing myself…”

He trailed off and noticed Alfred staring at him in shock.

“Master Batman, _you_ did this?! Why on earth would you be holding him tight enough for _this_ to happen?!” Alfred gestured to the battered torso as he spoke.

Backing away a little more, Batman said, “I had to hold him down. He was hearing the voice again and I didn’t want him to get hurt.” He stared for a moment at Dick’s body.

“I didn’t do a very good job of that, though,” he murmured.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Dick said loudly. “Like I said, better bruised than dead, right? I’ll just pack myself in Bat-ice for a while and it will go away. No big deal.”

Tired of the scrutiny of two pairs of adult eyes, the teenager pushed his shirt back down and slid off the table. “Am I done, Alfred?”

Without waiting for a reply, Dick walked to the Bat-freezer and pulled out two bags of Bat-ice – one large and one small. Then he went back to the medical area and grabbed a roll of Bat-wrap out of one of the cabinets. He laid down on the table and placed the small pack on his forehead. Then he lifted his right leg and quickly wrapped his knee. It was a little sloppy, but it was supporting the ligament. Finally, he maneuvered the large pack of Bat-ice onto the front of his body. All this was done as Alfred stood rooted to his spot in shock and Batman glared at the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” the Caped Crusader growled again, and Dick sighed.

“I’m going to take a nap, if that’s okay. Wake me up if I try to jump off any buildings.” He looked at the two men with a slight grin. Both of them frowned in reply.

“Too soon?”

“Yes, Master Dick, much too soon.”

The teenager closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep. Alfred quickly unwrapped then re-wrapped the knee before repositioning the Bat-ice on the boy’s torso. Then he turned to Batman, his eyes cold with anger.

“What did you do to him, _sir_?!” he whispered.

“I already told you!” Batman replied heatedly. “I had to hold him down. He had just _walked_ _off the roof_ , Alfred! What would you have done if you knew that he was about to try it again? Held his hand? He’s strong and I had to keep him immobile. You think I like seeing him in that condition?! I’ve got a lump of guilt in my chest that weighs more than he does!”

Taking a deep breath, because he knew that blaming Batman would do more harm than good, the faithful butler replied, “Thank you, sir, for saving the young master’s life. I understand why you had to do it, sir, and I did not mean to imply that you wanted him to be in pain. Please forgive me if I overstepped my boundaries.”

Alfred abruptly turned around and walked to the service elevator. He _did_ understand but, right now, he didn’t want to be in the Batcave, glaring at Batman while hoping that Robin’s bruises would fade easily.

“You don’t need to apologize, Alfred,” Batman began but the butler had already walked away. “I didn’t mean to do it!” he shouted but instead of receiving a nod of acknowledgement from the older man, he heard a soft noise.

“Trying to sleep,” the boy mumbled, and Batman returned to the Bat-computer. He was going to figure this out and it was going to happen soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos!

**Somewhere in Gotham City:**

“This is ridiculous,” the man muttered. “It makes no sense, at all.” He had been working on the words for over an hour and had come up with nothing.

machine, educate, adjudicate, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a

“The _machine_ will _educate_ me on how to _adjudicate._ Its _compartment_ s will _disregard_ an _allergic_ reaction to a _nibor.a._ ”

He felt like an idiot. The computer had given him the clues, but he was too stupid to figure out what they meant. Maybe they had nothing to do with the Boy Wonder. Perhaps he was supposed to apply them to himself. Frustrated, he threw his pencil across the room and stood up. Taking a walk might clear his mind and help him find a solution. So, he walked out of his ground-level office and joined the many other people ambling down the sidewalk.

* * *

**The Batcave – midnight:**

“One code each; no control over who knows codes; access depends on code clearance level.”

Robin was mumbling to himself as he made a list of everything he had learned at Wayne Enterprises. He was sitting two desks away from the Bat-computer and he wanted to use the machine but was hesitant. If Batman discovered what the teenager suspected, he would probably be offended and stop the project. But the machine was so much smarter than him!

Batman was out following some sort of tiny lead that he hadn’t discussed with the Boy Wonder. He could be returning soon or three hours from now. Robin had been instructed to stay in the Batcave, under Alfred’s watchful eye, until the Caped Crusader returned. Alfred was cleaning on the other side of the room but would notice him go to the Bat-computer. The young crime-fighter was stuck trying to figure it out by himself; he had no other choice.

Why did the Bat-computer give them Bruce’s name as a suspect – the only suspect? Robin had an idea: somebody at Wayne Enterprises had somehow discovered Bruce’s code and was using it. But how? Bruce was so paranoid about everything; wouldn’t he be the same way with his code? And would the security guards be suspicious if Bruce’s code was used at midnight? Did they even know who had which code? Did a person’s name show up when his or her code was entered into any machine or door? The Boy Wonder still had a lot of questions and the voice had interrupted his attempt to learn more this afternoon.

His list of knowledge and questions had filled an entire page of his Bat-notebook and he flipped it over to use the other side. There was a familiar roar and he quietly groaned while closing the Bat-notebook. No more time to work on his project for now. Maybe he would put his list in the bathroom; that was probably the only time he would be alone. Robin was sure that Bruce, and therefore Batman, would be upset with his suspicion. Why would any employee at Wayne Enterprises want the Boy Wonder dead? It was idiotic to think like that, but it was better than sitting here feeling useless.

Batman had climbed out of the Batmobile and was whispering to Alfred. Robin rolled his eyes; they were obviously talking about him. Why couldn’t they just discuss it _with_ him, instead of keeping secrets?

“If you have something to say that concerns me, please say it to my face,” he lightly commanded. “I should be allowed to know what’s going on!”

Both men glanced at him, then back at each other. Alfred nodded and Batman tilted his head, obviously unsure about something. The butler nodded again, more emphatically this time, and began walking toward Robin. Batman followed, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“It was a dead end,” Batman stated when they arrived at the table where Robin had been working. Robin nodded, accepting the fact without showing any emotion.

“It always is,” he commented and shrugged.

Silence reigned. Batman glanced at Alfred, concern filling his eyes and manifesting itself on his face. Robin was never emotionless. The hero gently placed his left hand on the boy’s right shoulder and stared into his eyes.

“I’ll find it, I promise.”

“There’s nowhere to find whatever _it_ is, Batman. You have no ideas, no clues and eventually he is going to win. He covered his tracks so well that even the World’s Greatest Detective has no place to start. Maybe we should just let it go.”

“You’re joking, right?! Please tell me that you’re joking, Robin!” Batman immediately demanded.

Shrugging again, the teenager said wearily, “It’s not going to matter anyway because, like I said, he’s going to win. Stop stressing about trying to find a cure and just accept that fact.”

Batman was shocked. His partner wanted him to stop looking and just allow him to _die_?!

“That is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had in your entire life, Robin.”

The man knew he sounded furious but how else was he going to get through to the boy?

“Well, it is what it is, I guess.” Robin’s voice was still completely emotionless, as if he just didn’t care anymore. “So, I can go up to my room by myself then, right?”

“ _ABSOLUTELY NOT_!” Batman exploded and Robin flinched. “ _WE ARE NOT GIVING UP AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO CHOOSE TO DIE! I PROMISED TO KEEP YOU SAFE AND I’M NOT GOING TO LET YOU DOWN. UNDERSTAND_?!”

Batman’s thundering voice echoed around the Batcave and Robin had to force himself not to cover his ears.

A single, silent tear rolled down the Boy Wonder’s right cheek. The Caped Crusader took his hand off the boy’s shoulder and caught the salty drop with his thumb. Crouching down in front of his partner, he wiped away the tiny track.

“Trust me,” he said softly, “I will not let him win.”

“I know you want to try,” Robin replied just as quietly. “But he’s so strong and I know that soon I won’t be able to stop myself from doing whatever he commands. And you guys shouldn’t have to babysit me all the time.”

“Master Robin,” Alfred suddenly joined the conversation, “I do not consider spending time with you to be babysitting. You are strong and intelligent and extremely mature for your age. Do not think for one moment that you are ill-equipped to handle this situation. You are the Boy Wonder; start acting like it, please, young sir.”

The butler’s tone was slightly reprimanding when he said the last sentence and both crime-fighters looked up at him in surprise.

“Where are you? I can’t find you!”

The voice sounded worried this time. Robin was slightly encouraged by the fact that it couldn’t find him.

“At least we’re together again.”

The taunt caused fear to immediately overpower the courage and he balled his hands into fists.

“ _Shut up_!”

Alfred was taken aback by both the tone and the words. 

“Master Robin! I understand you are upset but there is no need for such rudeness!”

Shaking his head, Batman replied, “I don’t think he’s talking to you, Alfred.”

The teenager suddenly jumped to his feet and attempted to race away from the men. But Batman was ready, and he grabbed his partner mid-jump. Dropping to the floor, the Caped Crusader crushed the boy to his chest and waited for the struggling to end. It was much longer this time and Robin was strong. Batman was the one becoming weary, but he refused to let go.

A little over five minutes later, Robin relaxed into his partner, exhausted. Alfred was staring at them in shock and now understood why the Boy Wonder’s torso was a mass of bruises.

“I…can’t…breathe,” Robin mumbled, and Batman realized that he was still squeezing the boy tightly. He instantly dropped his arms and the teenager took several deep breaths.

“Gone,” he whispered. “At least he didn’t know where I was.”

“I installed anti-mind-control Bat-insulation last night after you went to bed. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to lock him out. I’ll work on that,” Batman replied.

Robin didn’t answer; he had drifted off to sleep.

Alfred, his eyes still wide with shock, whispered, “What are we going to do? I can’t hold him down like that if it happens while you’re gone!”

“I’ll take a vacation; the board of directors can handle things while I go ‘out of town’. I don’t know what to do to keep him safe when I’m out looking for the cure yet.”

“Strap me down.” The words were muttered but enunciated well. “Put me in bed and strap me down while Batman is gone.”

Alfred gasped and Batman grimaced. It was logical and a good idea. But could he really force himself to tightly secure his ward to the bed? It would probably work and the hero knew he had no choice.

“Okay, kiddo. I hate this idea but I think you’re right. I’m sorry,” Batman said softly.

Shrugging, Robin moved away from his partner’s body and stood up. He walked to his Batpole then turned back.

“Are you coming? I’m kind of sleepy.”

“I need Bat-straps. Wait for me, okay?”

The boy nodded and grabbed onto his Batpole to keep himself steady. It took Batman twenty seconds to locate the Bat-straps and he grabbed three of them: legs, waist and shoulders. Then he strode to the Batpoles, they both climbed on and he shot them up to the Manor.

Alfred carefully sat on the chair that Robin had recently vacated, put his head in his hands and allowed several tears to slide down his slightly wrinkled cheeks. Thirty seconds later he wiped the liquid away and went to the service elevator. He needed to be there, both physically and emotionally, for his boys.

* * *

**The next morning:**

Dick stirred and was surprised to feel that he could freely move around. Lifting his head, he stared at his body and wondered why there were no Bat-straps.

“I couldn’t do it,” came a voice from beside him. “I was here anyway so I just stayed.”

His eyes wide with disbelief, Dick turned his head and growled, “How are you supposed to get any sleep if you do _that_ every night?! You can’t function on no sleep and you can’t find a cure if you can’t function!”

“I slept,” Bruce replied defensively. There was a quick pause then he admitted, “A little.”

“You don’t want to, I get it. I would feel the same way. But you don’t really have a choice, unless you are done being Batman.”

“I know,” the man said with a tinge of sorrow. “But I just couldn’t.”

The boy opened his mouth but Bruce shook his head.

“Neither could Alfred.”

“Let’s do a practice round!” Dick’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Then you’ll know how it feels but you’ll also be able to take them off right away. Get Alfred; we’ll practice!”

Bruce stared at him and didn’t move. Dick sat up, turned to face him and used Robin’s version of the Bat-glare.

“Go. Get. Alfred!” he demanded.

The man still didn’t move so the boy stood up and punched him on the arm. Bruce flinched then glared at his ward. Grabbing his arm, Dick pulled as hard as he could and got his guardian to stand up. He put his hands on the strong chest and pushed him away.

“NOW!” Dick shouted and a startled Bruce finally turned and walked out the door. Sighing, the teenager laid down again and waited for the two men to come back so they could practice making him immobile.

They returned several minutes later only to discover that Dick had seemingly fallen asleep again. Indecision filled both pairs of eyes and they glanced at each other. Alfred pointed out the door, silently ordering Bruce to go take a nap. The man shook his head and swept his hand toward Dick. How was Alfred going to take care of the situation if it happened while Bruce was asleep?

“Come on, already!”

The commanding voice of the teen startled both of them and they walked over to the bed. Dick was wide awake and lying perfectly straight with the three Bat-straps neatly laid out on the table beside him. The men stood at the side of his bed, their eyes flicking from the boy to the Bat-straps and back again.

“Holy hesitation, it’s just a practice! Try it then undo it. It’s not that difficult!”

“That’s because you’re not the one doing it,” Bruce grumbled, and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Then let’s switch spots and I’ll show you how it’s done,” he smirked. Neither man grinned at his lame attempt at humor and Dick rolled his eyes again.

“Can we please just get it over with? Put them on, take them off and we’re done.”

Everything was quiet for several seconds and then Alfred walked around to the other side of the bed. Bruce situated the first Bat-strap across his ward’s shoulders then he and the butler tightened it. They repeated the action on the boy’s waist and shins then quickly undid all of them.

“There. Happy?” Bruce grumbled again.

Dick wordlessly nodded then got out of bed and strode to his dresser. He grabbed some clothes, went to the bathroom and locked the door.

“We might as well leave them buckled on your side, sir,” Alfred said quietly. Bruce acknowledged the comment with a quick nod then put a finger to his lips. Tilting his head, the man listened carefully then glanced at his butler.

“I know, sir. I, too, can hear him attempting to hold back the tears.”

“I should stay with him every night.”

“Then how is Batman going to fix this enormous problem?”

“I don’t know; I’ll just…” he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. “How can we do this to him every single night?! I barely made it through this ‘practice round’! And it was definitely hard on _him_ ,” Bruce threw his thumb in the direction of the bathroom, “although he did very well at acting like he wasn’t affected by it.”

“It’s the only way, Master Bruce, and it was his idea.”

Nodding miserably, Bruce sat on the edge of Dick’s bed and waited for him to emerge from the bathroom. Water was running and the men decided that the boy was taking a shower. The water and that assumption almost caused them to miss the sound of a windowpane being shattered. Bruce rushed to the door and slammed his body into the strong wood. It shuddered and cracked so he did it again. The door burst apart and the first thing the man saw was the broken glass scattered on the windowsill. There was a sound directly beneath him and he looked down. His ward was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest, arms on top of his knees and head resting on his arms. The boy’s entire body was trembling.

“Threw shampoo bottle out the window,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

Kneeling down next to the boy, Bruce asked, “Were you in control?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just frustrated and scared and I hate everything that’s happening. I hate _him_ , Bruce. What did I do to make him want me to die? Why me?!”

He was still whispering and his head was still on his arms. Bruce attempted to see his ward’s face, but it was impossible.

“I don’t know, kiddo. But I will not rest until this problem is solved. I will be working day and night; I will fix this.”

Lifting his head, Dick admitted, “I have an idea.”

Bruce was shocked and his jaw dropped open. “How long have you had this ‘idea’?” he demanded, although his voice was quiet.

“A couple of days but I didn’t want to upset you. I thought you would get angry because of it and I didn’t want to put more pressure on you. I’ve been working on it myself, but I think I need the Bat-computer.”

“What could possibly upset me more than the fact that someone is trying to get you to kill yourself?!” 

“Well…it’s about Wayne Enterprises and I thought it might offend you.”

Pulling him up to his feet, Bruce led his ward back to the bedroom. Alfred was still on the other side of the bed and relief flooded his face when Dick walked in behind Bruce.

“Tell me,” Bruce commanded as he sat them both on the bed, “and don’t leave anything out.”

Surprise was floating on Alfred’s face now and he moved around to the writing desk next to the door. He sat on the chair and waited for whatever important piece of information Dick was about to tell them. Because, from the way his charges were staring at each other, it was obviously important.

“Remember that I was asking you about your security systems yesterday?” Dick asked. Bruce nodded so the boy continued. “What if, and I don’t even know if this would be possible, that’s why I need help from the Bat-computer. Anyway, what if someone knows your code and is using it for something. I mean, why else would we receive your name?”

“I don’t know how that could happen, Dick. I have never written down my code and I’ve never said it out loud. Alfred doesn’t even know it!”

“Right, I was pretty sure about that. So then I started thinking, when someone uses a code, does their name show up on a computer somewhere? If so, wouldn’t people notice if someone’s code was being used at midnight?”

“Well, there are people who work there at night or stay late.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer my first question.”

“I’m getting there. When I punch in my code to enter my office, it is automatically logged and sent to security. It tells them where the code was used and the owner of that specific code.”

“So the guards would know that it was you who entered your office.”

“Exactly. They don’t see the code number, they just see the name and location.”

“But the codes have to be stored somewhere, right? How else does the computer know who is entering their code? And what if somebody forgets their code?”

“Okay,” Bruce said thoughtfully as he stared at the floor in concentration. He was carefully following his ward’s line of thought and was beginning to understand the idea.

“What if you have a tech guy, like a super-genius tech guy, who can hack into wherever the codes are stored, find the one that belongs to you and use it?” His guardian didn’t reply and Dick’s face fell. “It’s kind of far-fetched, I know. I just thought…sorry if I offended you.”

Bruce looked up in surprise. “No, I’m not offended. I was just thinking. And maybe it’s not as far-fetched as you think. I do have an entire IT department on the ground floor of the building but there are over fifty employees. How are we going to find him?”

“That’s another thing I’ve been thinking about. The voice is always directed to Robin, not Dick Grayson. So, he either hates Robin and wants revenge or hates Batman and wants revenge through Robin.”

“We just need to find the connection,” Bruce murmured. “You’re right, we need the Bat-computer.”

Excited at the possibility of a lead, ward and guardian raced down the stairs, flew into the study and jumped onto their Batpoles. Alfred, also excited but much less agile, walked quickly to the service elevator and met his charges in the Batcave.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the awesome comment, Lizzy!

**Wayne Enterprises – IT department:**

The man had been working through the night. Around midnight he had reached out to the boy, found his mind and was able to hold on longer than last time. He had no idea where Robin was, so he hadn’t tried to tell him to do anything. Batman was probably with him, anyway, and would save the kid.

“Yes, this has to be it!” the criminal suddenly shouted. He had been on the right track when he had decided to change his thinking; the words had nothing to do with Robin or his mind.

The puzzle had been difficult to complete. He had tried what felt like millions of combinations with no success. Until now, when he had finally, hopefully, figured out how to put the phrase together:

machine, educate, adjudicate, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a

m d j p e g a 

The combination was slightly familiar and he knew why. Mark Tynt, his executive assistant, had recently mentioned something about meeting someone with initials similar to the ones the criminal was currently studying. The man decided to talk to his assistant as soon as the guy arrived at work. At least he had a place to start.

* * *

**The Batcave:**

“Holy one-track Bat-computer mind!” Robin exclaimed, irritation filling the words. They had been working on the machine for over an hour and the same card was repeatedly exiting the output slot: humatronic poison and Bruce Wayne.

“Maybe we’re just wrong,” he continued. “Maybe this was a stupid idea dreamed up by a stupid teenager who was grasping for straws!”

“Enough of that, Robin,” Batman commanded sternly. “I have a gut feeling that we are on the right track. We just have to look deeper.”

“Could your name be coming out because it has to do with Wayne Enterprises?”

“That’s a thought, old chum. But I think it would just say Wayne Enterprises; Bruce Wayne is very specific.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Robin walked away from the Bat-computer in frustration. This was stupid; he was wrong and getting excited had been a huge mistake. The disappointment he currently felt was stronger because of it.

_Ding_.

The teen didn’t even bother glancing back. What was the point? It was just going to say the same four words. There was a sharp intake of breath and Robin stopped moving.

“I think we might have something, Robin,” Batman stated quietly. He didn’t allow even a tiny hint of hope to come through in his voice, however. There was enough disappointment clouding the room; they didn’t need another letdown. The teenager was by his side, reading the card and allowing confusion to manifest itself on his face.

machine, educate, adjudicate, compartment, disregard, allergic, nibor.a

“A bunch of random words. You call that ‘something’? The Bat-computer has been working hard for over an hour. It’s probably worn out.”

Sighing, Robin turned around and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Batman asked, immediately concerned.

“I don’t know, just wandering.” Robin’s voice was normal and, when he glanced back at his older partner, his eyes were clear and blue.

Relieved, Batman turned his attention to the card in his hand. The Boy Wonder was right; they were just random words. It was possible that the Bat-computer was tired, so the Caped Crusader opened it up and examined all the inner workings. Everything looked fine; nothing was smoking or moving slower than normal or torn. These words, then, were not the product of an over-worked machine. It was telling the Dynamic Duo something, and they were supposed to figure out the meaning.

“They don’t make any sense,” Robin stated softly. “I’ve already tried a bunch of combinations and nothing makes sense.”

“What if it’s an acronym?” Batman replied but Robin shook his head.

“I’ve tried the first letters, the last letters, the first two letters, the last two letters, the first of words one, three, five and seven combined with the last of two, four and six.”

Batman was both astonished and not surprised – an unusual and contradictory combination of feelings. The teenager had no pencil or paper in his hands or on the table in front of him. All of the groupings he had attempted were done in his intelligent mind in less than three minutes.

The Caped Crusader had, of course, also been mentally mixing letters and words while staring at the card. Most of them were the same ones Robin had tried and the boy was right: none of them made any sense.

Striding over to the Giant Board for Writing Letters, Batman neatly printed each word with a light green marker. The two crime-fighters stared at the letters, deep in thought. Robin unconsciously began fiddling with his dark green gloves, stretching and snapping them at random times. Batman, on the other hand, was completely motionless. His left arm was folded across his chest with his right elbow resting on it and his right hand supporting his chin.

“I’m getting a headache,” Robin muttered after several minutes. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he began rubbing his temples while still blending letters and words in his head.

Grabbing a black marker, Batman suddenly circled the letter corresponding to the number of each of the words, one through seven.

Machine…eDucate…adJudicate…comPartment…disrEgard…allerGic…nibor.A 

Crossing the cave to the Bat-computer, he put in the letters: MDJPEGA

The machine whirred away. Robin was staring at the board again, tilting his head and trying to see whatever his partner had just noticed.

_Ding._

A card slid from the output slot and the Caped Crusader grabbed it. It was blank and Batman exhaled loudly in frustration.

“DJ,” Robin said, startling his partner with his sudden arrival.

“DJ?” Batman mused. Nodding his head in agreement, he asked, “Do you know any DJs, Robin? Any kids in school who called ‘juniors’?”

“Sure,” Robin replied and closed his eyes in concentration. “Matt Jones, Jr. Carl Forlen, Jr. Derek Matloc, Jr. and some gifted seventh grader in my senior-level math class.”

“Do you call Derek ‘DJ’?” Batman inquired and was disappointed when Robin opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Maybe it means a DJ as in a guy who plays the music at a club or a school dance,” the Boy Wonder remarked.

“Hmmmm,” the Caped Crusader concurred. Both members of the Dynamic Duo attempted to think of DJs. It was difficult; neither of them had ever been to a club for more than ten minutes and Dick Grayson had only attended one school dance.

“If I may, sirs, there has been a lot of talk around town about a new – or ‘fresh’ as they say – DJ whose last name is rather long.”

Alfred had been discreetly studying the words, also, and five letters had made an impression in his mind.

“You know about DJs?” Robin asked in disbelief and Alfred’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“I do go to town quite often, Master Robin, and hear many things that the Dynamic Duo would probably never hear when they are out at night.”

“His name, Alfred, what is it?” Batman demanded, although his tone was not one of anger.

“It was something quite long, sir, so I believe he uses a shortened version of it when he is ‘working a club’, as they say.”

The butler furrowed his brow in concentration. He shook his head and the expression immediately fled – the answer was already on the board.

“Peg!” the old man exclaimed. “DJ Peg, I’m sure of it, sir!”

Robin snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of him! He only takes jobs at upscale clubs and charges seventy-three dollars an hour!”

“Seventy-three?” Batman repeated. “That’s an unusual number for an hourly wage.”

“He’s an unusual guy, Batman. Didn’t you see his picture in the paper last week? The crazy hair, colorful clothes, polka dot shoes and glued on mustache?!”

“I don’t usually read the society section, Robin, so I have no knowledge of this man’s appearance.”

“Well, he looks ridiculous.”

“To each his own, Robin. To each his own.”

“Gosh, Batman, you’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, old chum. You are entitled to voice your opinion. Now, let’s get back to the topic at hand. DJ Peg, you said?”

Both Alfred and Robin nodded and this time it was Batman who closed his eyes in concentration.

“But what about the ‘M’ and the ‘A’?” Robin asked after several seconds of silence.

“Excellent question, young sir,” Alfred murmured as he walked over to the board.

“Crap,” Robin suddenly muttered, and Batman’s eyes flew open. The teenager had dropped to the ground and wrapped his arms tightly around his small body.

“Robin?”

“I got it, Batman,” he whispered as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Get out of my head. I’m stronger than you and we’re going to beat you.” 

The Boy Wonder grabbed his head with both hands and now his face was screwed up in pain. Batman watched Robin’s knuckles turn white as he pushed them hard against his head.

“Robin!” the Caped Crusader shouted, pulling the boy’s hands away before he could crack any of the bones in his face. There was a short struggle for control but Batman had a firm hold on Robin’s wrists and refused to allow him to do anything except sit on the ground and violently squirm around.

“GET OUT!” the teenager suddenly yelled. His eyes, which were slowly becoming gray, returned to their normal blue color and he stopped struggling.

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, old chum.”

Robin, who was staring at the ground, lifted his head and stared into Batman’s eyes.

“I think I scared him,” he said with a slight grin. “Or maybe it was the fact that you installed the anti-mind-control Bat-insulation and he couldn’t command me to do anything.”

“What did you hear?” Batman demanded loudly and Robin flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” The Caped Crusader noticed that he was still tightly holding on to his partner’s wrists and he immediately let go.

“Nothing, really. He was just poking around; probably trying to figure out how much control he could get.”

Glancing down at his now-throbbing wrists, Robin quickly moved them out of sight. There was no need to make his partner feel more guilty.

Batman, however, instantly noticed the movement. “Let me see,” he sighed, and Robin shook his head. “Please don’t argue about this, chum. Just allow me to look at the damage and then you can go take care of it. Okay?”

Robin slowly brought his hands from behind his back. The finger-shaped bruises on his wrists were rapidly darkening. Batman growled and the hands disappeared behind the teenager’s back again.

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged. “It’s easy to take care of; the Bat-ice will heal them and they’ll be gone in less than two days.”

“They’re from _me_ ,” Batman growled angrily, although Robin knew the anger wasn’t directed at him. “It _is_ a big deal.”

“Don’t you dare feel guilty about this!” Robin shouted. “You were protecting me and it’s not your fault that I bruise easily! They don’t even hurt!”

That last part was a lie and Robin knew that Batman knew it.

“Okay, maybe just a little,” the teen admitted before jumping to his feet and racing away to grab some Bat-ice.

“You’re right, Robin,” Batman whispered. “Crap.”

* * *

**The next night:**

Dick was lying under the covers on his bed, waiting for the two men to strap him down. Bruce and Alfred were staring at the Bat-straps in dismay. Neither one wanted to begin but both knew it was necessary.

“Come on, let’s just do it,” Dick sighed. “I know it’s difficult but the sooner you do it the sooner Batman can leave.”

Reluctantly, the men placed the Bat-straps across the small body and tightened the buckles. The boy was grinning, but his eyes were full of dread.

“Good job!” Dick attempted to keep his voice cheerful but knew he was failing. He was trying to be strong but the feeling of being completely immobile was filling his body with terror. Several different emotions were fighting for control in his expressive eyes, so he quickly shut them. Bruce and Alfred didn’t need to see how he felt; it would make them feel worse about what they had just done.

“Goodnight,” the boy said softly and waited for them to leave.

“They’re off as soon as I get home, old chum,” Bruce whispered before turning around and walking out the door.

“Goodnight, Master Dick. I will check on you in a few hours,” the butler was also whispering as he backed away from the bed and finally made it to the hallway. Quietly closing the door, Alfred turned to the stairs and was not surprised to see his older charge frozen at the top.

“The sooner you find helpful information that leads to a cure, the sooner we won’t have to do this anymore, sir.”

Nodding, Bruce strode down the stairs and into his study. Batman was going to Wayne Enterprises to take a _very_ careful look around the IT department. There had to be some sort of clue, no matter how tiny. No criminal could cover every single track; mistakes were always made in any crime. All he had to do was find the error that would lead him to the person who had done this to his ward.

* * *

**Several hours later:**

“Wake up, Robin. It’s time to fly. Where are you?”

Dick’s eyes popped open and fear raced through them. But then he remembered that he was Bat-strapped to the bed and he relaxed. Not even the Boy Wonder could get out of tight Bat-straps, so he had nothing to worry about.

“I know you’re awake. Get up!” the voice commanded, and Dick’s muscles attempted to obey. But he was almost completely immobile, and the efforts were futile.

“What’s wrong with you?!” There was a short pause and then the voice returned.

“You really shouldn’t think so much,” it laughed. “So…you’re strapped to a bed somewhere. Do you think that’s going to stop me? I’ll help you get out; don’t worry.”

“No,” Dick whispered, “I’m stuck and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Except control your mind and, by extension, your muscles. Let’s see, shall we start with the waist? Walk your little fingers to the strap on your waist and start tearing it apart.”

Dick refused to allow his hands to move, although they were twitching vigorously.

“NOW!” the voice shouted, and the teenager couldn’t stop himself. He began tearing at the Bat-strap but it was too strong. The movements only caused him to tear the skin off his fingertips as they scratched at the thick material.

“Interesting. Bat-straps. Thanks for the information; I’ll work on that. Talk to you later, _kiddo_.”

His head was pounding, his heart was racing, and Dick needed reassurance.

“ALFRED!” he yelled. There was no answer, not even the soft sound of the butler’s footsteps. “BATMAN!” he tried and again heard nothing.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” the voice suddenly sneered. “Bat-straps are strong and you won’t be able to tear them apart with your bare hands. Start wiggling, kiddo, and we’ll have you out in a jiffy!”

Silver steel instantly replaced the blue of the teenager’s eyes and he began squirming. His legs were free several minutes later and the voice screeched in delight. Robin couldn’t wiggle his hips through the Bat-strap on his waist, however, so he was still stuck.

“Come on, Robin, I’ve seen you fighting villains. You’re athletic and strong and probably flexible. If you can’t squish yourself underneath the Bat-strap, just unbuckle it.”

The strong, resilient mind of Dick Grayson wasn’t struggling against the voice. Flipping his right leg up, he flexed his toes and began working on the buckle that held down his shoulders. Six and a half minutes later the buckle popped apart and his right arm was free. The rest was easy; all he had to do was unbuckle the one across his waist. He sat up and waited for further instructions.

“Wow, I’m impressed, Baby Bat! I wasn’t sure if you could do it but you obviously have some amazing abilities! Let’s go flying!”

The teen was confused. Where was he supposed to go to fly? He didn’t know how to fly. Did he?

“Are you an idiot? Of course you can fly! Find a tree or climb up a roof or go somewhere high and then jump off!”

The window was open and Dick – Robin in his mind – obediently walked over to it. He sat on the edge, swung his legs over the windowsill and stood up on the peaked roof. Would this be high enough? The boy wasn’t sure, so he turned around and began climbing. The top would definitely be high enough for the voice.

The air was chilly and there was a slight breeze. The Boy Wonder was only wearing thin pajama pants and a light gray t-shirt. His fingers and toes quickly became numb, making it much harder to continue climbing. He decided that halfway to the top would be good enough.

_STOP! What are you doing?! Why are you on the roof freezing your limbs off when you should be Bat-strapped to your bed?!_

Robin’s mind suddenly woke up as cold air rushed around and through his body. His half-blue, half-gray eyes widened in shock when he took in his surroundings. How had he freed himself from _Bat-straps_?!

“Come back to me, Robin. Don’t try to fight.”

The Boy Wonder shook his aching head and began mentally chanting “Go away” over and over.

“No,” he whispered. “Stop…moving,” he grunted as his brain desperately tried to send signals to all of his muscles. But they refused to listen, and he continued climbing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comment, Lizzy!

**Wayne Enterprises – several hours earlier:**

Batman, obviously, couldn’t use Bruce Wayne’s code. So, he went for the direct approach instead. He knocked on the front door and impatiently waited for a security guard to let him into the building. All of them were making rounds, however, and it took almost eight minutes of intermittent pounding before someone finally came to the door.

“Batman?!” the burly guard almost shouted and his equally muscular partner immediately joined him. They just stood there, looking stupefied, and Batman began yelling at them through the triple-paned glass.

The taller of the two suddenly raced to the front desk and punched in the numbers required in order to turn the dial and flip the switch to open the door. Thirty seconds later the Caped Crusader was marching through the lobby, heading straight for the IT department.

“Hey, wait, I need to see some ID!” the shorter guard yelled. Batman stopped, pivoted to face the man and gave him a Bat-glare.

“Does that work for you?” he growled before turning and sweeping down the hall.

“Uh, yeah,” the guard whispered and walked to the front desk looking like he was in a trance.

“Idiot,” his tall partner muttered. “You asked _Batman_ for an ID. Who does that?”

“Well…I…what if…” the younger man stuttered.

“What if he’s not Batman? How long have you been in Gotham City, ten minutes? That man was obviously Batman and you just insulted the most influential crime-fighter in, probably, the entire world. Glad I’m not you right now.”

Shaking his head, the more experienced guard turned toward the security monitors and watched the Caped Crusader stride down the hall toward the IT department. He briefly wondered why Batman would come to Wayne Enterprises so late but easily dismissed the thought. Why shouldn’t he come this late? He was, after all, _Batman_.

* * *

**IT department:**

He really wanted to just fling things out of his way while he searched but Batman didn’t want to leave a huge mess for Bruce Wayne’s employees. Information technology was an important division and the people who worked here were very protective of their organizational methods.

Deciding to start with the offices, Batman picked the lock of the nearest one and pushed the door open. It was a normal room, nothing fancy or suspicious. The golden nameplate read Fred Scott and the desk was meticulously organized. The Caped Crusader almost turned around and left but changed his mind.

The computer monitor was on and emitting an eerie, blue glow on the wall behind the man’s chair. Batman sat down and frowned. The screen wasn’t locked, and all the file icons were neatly labeled with their security classifications. Level one was basic, two was manager clearance, three was department head, four was only the top people and five was solely Bruce Wayne. So why did this man have three level five files sitting in plain sight on his unlocked desktop?

Batman chose one and clicked it open. It emitted a screeching sound and a picture of a hyena began bouncing around the screen. Quickly escaping out of that, the hero opened a second level five. The computer began growling at him and this time the bouncing picture was an angry lion.

_This is ridiculous. He wants to look important so he has three silly files with a level five label._

Shaking his head, the Caped Crusader almost stood up to leave. But there was one more level five and he decided it was worth checking out.

Fred Scott instantly became a very high-priority suspect when Batman clicked on the third file. It squeaked at him and a blue bat began flying from corner to corner while a smaller yellow bird danced around in the middle. An idea entered his mind and he moved the pointer until it was in the middle of the bird. It took one click for Batman to know, without a doubt, the identity of the man in Robin’s head:

M…D J P E G…A – see Tynt

So, they were on the right track with DJ Peg. But who or what was Tynt? Batman closed the file and found a level three personnel folder on the desktop. He clicked it open and the first name he saw was the executive assistant to Mr. Department Head Scott: Mark Tynt.

“We’re going to have a chat, Fred, and then we’re bringing in Mark and talking to him, too,” Batman growled. “See you in the morning.”

He closed the file and started to stand up but paused when he heard a quiet beeping sound. It was coming from the bottom drawer on the right side, which was locked. The department head locked his drawer but not the sensitive files on his computer.

“Idiot,” the crime-fighter murmured while picking the lock. Ten seconds later the drawer was open, and Batman was staring at a small black box. He picked it up; it was beeping rhythmically and producing muffled sounds.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the quiet noise. The jumbled mix of sounds became words and the Caped Crusader opened his eyes, horror dashing through the dark-blue circles. The voice forming the words had the same tone and cadence as the one from the building where Robin had been poisoned.

“…idiot?...climb…high…jump off!”

“No,” Batman whispered, a dash of panic skirting the edges of the single word. The voice – Fred Scott – was trying to kill Robin again. But the Boy Wonder was strapped down with Bat-straps and it was nearly impossible to free oneself from them.

_Nearly_.

Robin was small and the buckles weren’t all the way tightened. The boy had to be able to breathe so Bruce and Alfred had left a small space between his body and the Bat-strap. If anybody could escape from Bat-straps, it would be the strong, _flexible_ , Robin. Somehow, Scott had figured that out and was taking advantage of it.

No, not ‘somehow’. The trembling voice of Dick Grayson echoed in Batman’s mind:

“I…the voice…he can read my mind!” 

Dropping the box back into the drawer, the hero shoved the chair away from the desk and raced out of the office. He tore through the lobby and, thanks to an observant security guard, sprinted out the front door instead of colliding with the triple-paned glass. Jumping into the Batmobile, he pulled away from the curb and began flying through the streets. The Batcave was fourteen miles away and Fred was already telling Robin to jump.

“Don’t do it, Robin! Fight him; you’re stronger!” he shouted.

The words were swept away by the wind as the Batmobile was pushed to its limit.

_Please let me make it in time_.

* * *

**Wayne Manor – present time:**

There was a pitched roof around him, and Robin was slightly concerned. He couldn’t remember why he was so high up; he was currently winning the battle for his brain and the voice was gone. Cold air was swirling around his body and he glanced down. Why was he in pajama pants and a shirt when he was supposed to be Robin? Batman was going to be very upset when he found out that Robin was on patrol as Dick Grayson. Because why else would he be so high up?

It had to be some part of Gotham that he had only been to once or twice. Otherwise he would recognize the area, although all he could see were the swaying tops of tall, generic Gotham City trees. Reaching for his Bat-communicator – he should really let Batman know that he was lost – Robin was surprised when he discovered the lack of his utility belt. He reached up and touched his face – no mask, either. The teenager knew he was going to be in so much trouble.

Robin decided to climb off whatever building he was currently on and find a way to return to the Batcave. He had no idea where the Batmobile was and no way to communicate with his partner, so he was going to have to either walk or try to find a cab. It would probably be the former; he didn’t know of any cab companies that sent out cars this late at night. They were, after all, in Gotham City where crime was rampant.

The moon was his only source of light and it was suddenly gone. Storm clouds had slowly been drifting towards each other and were now gathering in large clumps that filled almost the entire sky.

_This is going to be much harder in the rain. Why did I come up here like this and why am I barefoot? Batman is going to kill me when I get home!_

Rain was threatening but not yet falling. A small streak of lightening flashed in the distance and Robin, who was standing still, decided it was time to get down. But he had no Bat-flashlight and, now, no moonlight.

He sat down and carefully began scooting his way toward the edge he had seen earlier. It was about eight feet away, by his estimation, and he began counting inches in his head. At inch number ninety-three his feet slid off the edge and he stopped. However, he had no idea what the rest of the building looked like; he didn’t even know what building he was on!

“Well, look at you!” the voice cackled. “Already sitting on the edge and ready to fly! You won that short battle, but I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep me away for long.”

Robin instantly knew where he was and why he was here. He was supposed to jump off the roof of Wayne Manor. But half of his brain decided to continue to fight.

“Oh, puh-leeease,” the voice growled, irritation filling the tone. “Why are you trying to fight back again? Just do what I tell you to do and everything will be fine. NOW!”

Quickly backing away from the edge, Robin turned around and crawled toward the weathervane. He could wrap his arms around it and use…something…to secure them. An idea shot through his mind and he pulled his shirt over his head. The wind was more than just chilly now, and it was whipping around him. But he would rather be freezing for a little while than jump off the roof.

“You really think that your _shirt_ is going to help you stay up there? And why do you have a shirt on instead of your silly red tunic?”

Robin tried to force his mind to become blank so the voice wouldn’t discover anything important. It worked; the voice was still there but now it sounded a little confused. The teen hoped it would stay that way.

He had continued to climb and was finally at the weathervane. His small arms were able to go all the around it and back in front of him. It gave him a tiny bit of extra security, and he was grateful for that. Wrapping his shirt tightly around his still-aching wrists, he tied it in a tight Bat-knot. Squeezing his eyes shut, Robin waited for the voice to fade and the danger to decrease. The mind of the Boy Wonder was strong; he could do this.

_Please come back, Batman. Please find me._

* * *

**The Batcave:**

“ _ALFRED_!” Batman roared as the Batmobile slammed to a stop.

There was no answer and the hero strode to the screen that showed the views from the Bat-cameras surrounding the Manor. The service elevator began emitting its usual whirring sound and a few seconds later Alfred was rounding the corner of the tunnel.

“Master Batman!” he exclaimed in both relief and fear. “He’s gone! I went to check on him and two of the Bat-straps are unbuckled! There is drying blood where his waist should be, and I can’t find him anywhere!”

“I found the voice, Alfred, and I know Dick is somewhere high.” Batman flipped through the different images on the screen as he spoke. “Come on,” he murmured, “where are you?”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky and both men saw a small body wrapped around the weathervane near the top of the roof. Alfred gasped and Batman grabbed some Bat-rope and raced to his Bat-pole. Pushing the Instant Non-Costume Change button, he flew up into the study and sprinted outside.

“ _ROBIN!_ ” he thundered but the wind was howling now and Batman knew the boy couldn’t hear him.

After quickly attaching the Bat-rope to a Bat-a-rang, he threw it toward the roof. It caught the lower edge and the Caped Crusader immediately began Bat-climbing his way up. He would have to unhook it and toss it again when he reached the edge and then repeat it one more time. Robin was on the third level of the roof, almost to the highest peak.

_Hang on; please don’t let go._

* * *

**A studio apartment in Gotham City:**

The connection had been lost right before the kid had jumped. Growling in frustration, the head of the IT department shook his head and tried again. Robin’s thoughts were flying around – something about patrol and being lost and not having some kind of belt. The boy’s brain was fighting but was weakening. Another minute or two and Fred knew he would have control again.

Exactly ninety seconds later their conversation began. Robin was attempting to continue struggling but Fred was getting stronger. Looking out the window at the gathering storm, the man started laughing loudly. The kid was tying himself to something metal when there was lightning in the area. This would be almost as good as flying; Batman’s little sidekick would still die.

Terror and panic were consuming the boy’s mind and it was becoming painful to stay in his head. So, Fred reluctantly let go. He wouldn’t be able to watch the kid die but at least he knew it was going to happen. It had to; Fred had heard Robin telling himself to tighten the Bat-knot and the man knew a tight Bat-knot would, in all probability, be impossible to escape from with no tools. Shrugging, and grinning in pleasure, Fred turned off his lights and went to bed.

* * *

**Wayne Manor:**

“Holy human lightning rod!” Robin exclaimed as he watched another jagged streak of white flash over his head. The Bat-knot was tight, he had done his best work, and there was no way he was getting out of this. He should have jumped; his death would have been quicker and much less painful.

He began clawing at the Bat-knot with his still-bloody fingers and tearing at it with his teeth. This was idiotic and useless. All he was doing was making his already exhausted muscles start shaking with fatigue. But Robin continued to struggle because he was Batman’s partner and he wasn’t going to give up.

A different idea entered his panicked mind. Placing his feet against the skinny weathervane, the Boy Wonder pushed away as hard as he could. The object was old and suddenly began creaking. Robin grunted with the effort and continued pushing without taking a break. The metal slowly began to bend, lightning continued to flash above him and now it was pain instead of fatigue in his muscles.

But it was working. The rusted rooster at the top of the weathervane was coming closer and, several minutes later, it was low enough for his idea to work. Standing up, Robin pulled his arms up and over the top. He wanted to grin in relief but it was too soon; he was free but not out of danger.

The Bat-knot was still tight around his wrists so he wouldn’t be able to grab anything if he fell. The teenager began carefully picking his way down the roof. The darkness had taken away his sense of direction and he was going toward the backyard. Unbeknownst to Robin, Batman was Bat-climbing his way up from the front yard. The boy was headed away from his main chance of escape but neither hero had any idea that it was happening.

* * *

The Bat-climb seemed to be taking forever. Batman was traveling as fast as he could, but Wayne Manor was huge. Almost seven minutes after throwing the Bat-a-rang up to the roof, the hero reached the top. Without hesitating, he freed the Bat-a-rang from the edge and threw it up to the next level. It caught, he pulled it taut and began the next climb.

Five minutes after that he had released and thrown it to the third level and was now standing at the weathervane that was bent in half. Batman was shocked at the condition of the object. He had known Robin was strong but not bending-a-sturdy-piece-of-metal-in-half strong! Of course, the boy was probably panicked and full of adrenaline in addition to his normal crime-fighting strength. But where was he?

It was slightly raining now, and the clouds were ready to burst open into a downpour. A huge streak of lightning flew over his head and Batman backed away from the weathervane. As he did so, he noticed a small form carefully making its way down the other side of the roof. Was it Robin or Fred? Either way he was walking toward death in the darkness. The only sources of light were the flashes of white that sprinted across the sky at random times.

Suddenly a foot flew up in the air, a body hit the roof and Dick began sliding uncontrollably toward the edge. There was nothing Batman could do but watch as his ward’s body dropped off the roof and disappeared.

* * *

The rain was making it difficult to stay standing up. Robin thought about sitting down but realized that it would be even easier to slide off the roof if he did. So, inch by inch, he continued stepping down the incline that led to the edge of the top level.

_Holy slip and slide!_

His right foot suddenly flipped into the air and he fell hard, landing on his back. The shingles tore at his bare, bruised torso as he slid toward the edge. Ten seconds later Robin was flying off the roof and falling to his death.

He closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see the top of Wayne Manor fleeing away from his outstretched arms and it was pouring rain anyway. The wind tossed his small form around and soon he was tumbling toward the ground head-first.

Would it hurt when he landed, or would he slam onto the ground so hard that he wouldn’t even know he had crashed? It was something he had wondered ever since his parents had died. Did they feel anything right before the bright lights in their eyes had been extinguished?

Why wasn’t he moving anymore? Slowly opening his eyes, Robin saw the ground six inches in front of his face. He couldn’t feel anything wrapped around his body, except his shirt with the tight Bat-knot still around his wrists, so there was no Bat-rope saving him from death. How was he still alive?

Rolling onto his back, but still floating six inches away from the ground, Robin stared up at the roof. Rain was still pouring from the sky, but he could just barely see a tiny head leaning over the edge on the top level. Batman was up there? The Boy Wonder was very confused. Nothing was holding him off the ground so how…

He rolled back to his stomach to keep the rain out of his eyes. A crazy thought floated through his head. Could he fly? He shook the thought away; he was dreaming. This had to be a dream. He had been poisoned, not given a superpower! But it felt so real!

Robin abruptly dropped to the ground. He was soaking wet, freezing and now covered in mud and grass. Groaning, he thought about rolling onto his back but decided that the effort wasn’t worth it. His muscles were exhausted, his brain was exhausted, and he just wanted to go to sleep. So, he did. A pair of eyelids gently slid down and covered the blue eyes, Robin’s terror-filled breathing evened out and he drifted off.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, Lizzy and kaio6leaf!

It had taken him almost twenty minutes in the pouring rain, but Batman had finally finished his backwards Bat-climb. He sprinted around the south side of the Manor and burst through the flimsy gate that obviously needed to be fixed. That was a thought for later, though, as he rounded the southwest corner and saw a small frame lying motionless on the ground.

Batman froze in his tracks. He didn’t want to see the state of his young partner’s body but knew it was necessary. Closing his eyes, he saw a boy on a platform thirty feet in the air. The child’s piercing blue eyes were wide with shock and horror as he stared down at the two bodies lying in a large pool of blood. Intense grief and a stabbing pain filled Batman’s chest. So, this was how Dick had felt that night. 

Opening his eyes, Batman walked reluctantly toward the limp form. This was going to be almost as hard as staring at his own parents’ bodies in the street. He was two yards away and he stopped again. Taking a deep breath and forcing away his emotions, he took six more steps and crouched down next to his ward’s body.

He was bewildered and confused and concerned all mixed with a tinge of hope. There was mud all over the boy so Batman couldn’t tell if he was bloody, but Robin was breathing! The movement was normal and the Caped Crusader discovered a strong pulse when he placed two fingers on the small neck. It was as if he was merely asleep. How was this possible?!

That, too, was another thought for later. Robin’s condition needed to be evaluated so Batman grabbed his Bat-communicator out of his utility belt.

“Alfred!” There were several seconds of silence before he received an answer.

“Master Batman! Did you find him, sir? Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain when we’re down there. It’s pouring out here and I’ve got a breathing but unconscious Boy Wonder to carry. Will you please open the emergency Bat-hatch in the backyard?”

“Right away, sir.”

The butler’s voice was filled with relief as he flicked off the Bat-communicator receiver switch. Quickly walking toward the Emergency Bat-tunnel, he pushed the red button on the side wall labeled “Emergency Bat-hatch: backyard”. There was a metallic scraping sound and Alfred watched a small platform begin to rise up. He would have to wait a few minutes for his charges to emerge, so he went to the medical area and began prepping a table.

* * *

Fred couldn’t fall asleep. He wanted to reach out, make sure the boy’s mind was gone for good. But it had been painful before and, if Robin was somehow still alive, would probably hurt even more. By now fear would have completely consumed his brain and getting in might actually be impossible.

“Don’t try,” Fred muttered to himself. “Do it; make sure it’s done. No, it’s ridiculous to even attempt to find him. What if Batman found him? What if he’s safe?”

Shaking his head to shut down the argument, the department head made a decision. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind and began to search.

* * *

“Robin? Can you hear me, chum?”

The howling wind made it impossible for Batman to hear himself so he was sure that the words weren’t making it to Robin’s ears. Carefully rolling the boy onto his back, the man searched for any major injuries that would prevent him from picking Robin up and taking him to the Batcave. Nothing seemed serious; in fact, he couldn’t find any injuries at all through the mud and blinding rain.

Gently, the Caped Crusader lifted the Boy Wonder under his shoulders and knees. There was a quiet groan and Batman grimaced. Something hurt and he had just aggravated the feeling of pain.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he strode toward the patch of grass that was sliding open. The platform was already there so he stepped on and waited. The platform needed adjusting, Batman decided after waiting for over a minute. It needed some sort of scale or movement clue so it would lower upon receiving weight instead of on a timer.

They finally began their descent into the Batcave and soon the rain was no longer pouring down on them. The Bat-hatch slid closed and the two crime-fighters were stuck waiting again. It took two minutes to reach the cement floor of the Batcave and ten seconds more to wait for it to stop completely.

Batman stepped off the platform and quickly walked to the medical area. He was shocked when he finally saw Robin in the light. Mud was covering his entire body but there were no bones sticking out or copious amounts of blood seeping from deep wounds.

“I believe a quick Bat-shower is in order, sir,” Alfred’s calm voice came from behind Batman and he turned around. Nodding in agreement, he strode to the Bat-shower and abruptly stopped.

“You’re both already soaked, sir. Just stand in there and hold him while I rinse you both off.”

The butler saw the hesitation on his older charge’s face and knew that the man was trying to decide how to give the boy a shower without laying him on the floor.

Nodding again, the Caped Crusader stepped into a stall, closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the Boy Wonder’s still form. Warm water was soon washing over them and he was grateful for Alfred’s wisdom.

The Bat-shower became just a quick Bat-rinse because they needed to evaluate Robin’s condition. Opening his eyes, Batman walked back to the medical area and laid his ward down on the table that Alfred had already covered with a soft blanket. He grabbed a towel and carefully patted the boy’s face before removing his cowl and vigorously rubbing his own hair and face.

After a thorough examination, both Batman and Alfred were stymied. The torso was still mottled with bruises and his back was badly scraped from sliding down the roof. The Bat-knot had been released and the shirt was thrown aside but the only injuries there were the bruises from Batman’s fingers. There was slight bruising on the calves; he probably had to fight the Bat-strap to get his legs out. And his fingertips were bloody from trying to tear apart two different types of material – the Bat-straps and his shirt.

But nothing was broken or even fractured. The boy’s head, which Batman thought he saw hit the ground first, was completely uninjured. They had gently raised each eyelid and were relieved to find clear, blue circles. 

The evaluation had taken seven and a half minutes and Robin hadn’t flinched or made any noise. Batman looked at Alfred, who raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Neither had any ideas as to why Robin wasn’t a bloody pulp of death.

“Dream?” came a mumble from below them and both men immediately turned their attention to the boy.

“No, Robin, you’re not dreaming. Do you remember anything? Did you hear the voice? Did you…”

“Master Batman, I believe you’re overwhelming him with questions. Give him a moment to wake up, sir,” Alfred whispered.

The blue eyes slowly came into view, confusion dancing around in the circles. Robin blinked rapidly then unexpectedly sat up.

“Hold on, old chum, what do you think you’re doing?”

He was staring off into the distance, looking at nothing, and wondering why he had a memory of climbing the roof of Wayne Manor. How had he gone from being held immobile on his bed with Bat-straps to a medical table in the Batcave?

“Why am I down here?” Robin asked loudly.

Alfred and Batman looked at each other for several seconds. The butler dipped his head and the hero sighed.

“You tried to jump off the roof of the Manor, Robin. Instead of jumping, though, you attempted to climb back down and fell off. I don’t exactly know what happened; we need you to fill in the gaps.”

The teenager stared at the man, disbelief filling his entire face. “I tried to jump but fell instead?!”

Batman nodded and Robin rolled his eyes.

“Awesome,” he mumbled.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Bat-straps. He told me how to get out of them. You need to make them tighter next time, I guess.” Glancing down at his fingertips, Robin stated, “At least we know I can’t rip through them.”

All ten digits were missing skin and tinted red. Alfred instantly grabbed some Bat-gauze and medical Bat-tape. He quickly and skillfully wrapped the fingers and Robin nodded his thanks.

“The window,” the boy continued. “I guess we need to close the window from now on.”

He paused and the men waited, albeit a little impatiently.

“I’m drawing a blank,” Robin said softly. “The next thing I remember is tying my wrists with a shirt. Why would I do that?”

“I’m not absolutely sure but I think you were attempting to keep yourself from jumping. You had wrapped your arms around the weathervane and secured the shirt with a very tight Bat-knot.”

“So if I fell,” the Boy Wonder’s voice was shaking slightly, “why am I here and alive? I should be on the ground crushed in pieces but the only thing that hurts is my torso. What did you do to save me?”

“Nothing,” Batman replied. “I was too late. I Bat-climbed up the front while you were picking your way down the back. By the time I made it to the top, you were slipping and then you disappeared. I have no idea why you are alive and mostly uninjured.”

“Um, doesn’t that worry you? At least a little?”

“Yes, it concerns me. But whatever happened kept you alive so I’m also grateful.”

Robin’s eyes suddenly widened as memories rushed through his mind. The entire story immediately flew out of his mouth and the men stared at him in astonishment. The only thing missing was the end. The last thing the teenager remembered was wondering if the landing was going to hurt.

The explanation ended and the boy slumped down, closing his weary eyes. If Batman hadn’t caught him, he might have slipped off the table.

“Tired,” Robin murmured. “Go upstairs?” he questioned and tried to stand up.

“Absolutely not, kiddo.”

Robin shuddered and his eyes popped open. “What?! What did you just say?!”

Confused, Batman repeated the sentence and Robin pushed the man away. “You are the _only_ one that calls me ‘kiddo’. The voice wouldn’t know that, but the voice called me ‘kiddo’. What are you _doing TO ME?!_ ”

He was shouting now, his tone full of both alarm and anger. Batman was lying to him, straight to his face!

“I’m not…I didn’t…you think I would actually try to make you _kill yourself?!_ ”

“If you’re tired of having a ward or a sidekick, just kick me out. _You don’t have to kill me_!”

“Tired of…what makes you…I would never kill you, Robin!” Batman was also shouting now, and Alfred was watching the scene incredulously.

“ _Nobody else has ever called me ‘kiddo’, Batman! How would anyone know that?! The only other person who knows is Alfred and it wasn’t his name that came out of the Bat-computer! What do you want from me?!_ ”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DIE?!” the voice thundered in Robin’s head, causing it to begin throbbing. He dropped to his knees and grabbed his head with both hands.

“Stop! Get away from me!” he whispered. “I hate you!”

Batman had no knowledge that the voice had returned and he took several steps back. Robin _hated_ him? Sorrow briefly flashed across his features as he stared at the boy on the ground.

“Get out of my head, Batman,” Robin growled and suddenly the man understood.

“His name is Fred Scott and he’s the head of the IT department at Wayne Enterprises. You said he could read your mind, right? Maybe that’s how he knew to call you ‘kiddo’.”

Batman’s voice was calm but he was struggling to hold back the anger. The idiot that was doing this to his boy was going to be _very_ sorry when he met Batman tomorrow.

Silence reigned and the tension in the room was palpable. Robin’s entire body was rigid and the bruises on his wrists flashed in the light as he massaged his head. Batman had folded his arms across his chest and was glaring across the room. Alfred’s hands were clasped behind his back and his expression was one of trepidation.

Robin broke first. “F…Fred?” he whispered. “Do you…do you know him?” He kept his head down and waited for an answer that he hoped was negative.

“Not at all,” Batman answered, frustration surrounding the words. “I don’t hire people anymore. I trust the judgement of my assistants.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” now the boy’s voice was full of sorrow. He had been so stupid, accusing his _guardian_ of trying to kill him. Batman already had plenty of reasons to kick him out of the house and Robin had just given him another one.

Nobody answered the quiet apology and Robin closed his eyes. He was in trouble; probably more trouble than he had ever been in during his young life. Feeling like an idiot, the teenager stood up and lifted his head.

“I am sorry, Batman. I was out of line and I know you would never…” he trailed off and shrugged. “I, uh, don’t know what else to say. If you want me to leave, I will.”

Batman was now glaring at the ground. He had just learned several things from Robin’s outburst. First, the Boy Wonder was very protective of the affectionate nickname that Bruce had given him several years ago. Second, he already knew that Batman would never do something like this. The immediate and sincere apology was proof of that. Third, he was – for some inexplicable reason – insecure about his place in the lives of the two men in the room with him. And the Caped Crusader had no idea how to deal with that. The boy had been living in Wayne Manor for almost four years. How could he still be worried about being kicked out?

“Okay,” Batman stated, his voice flat and emotionless. “I understand that you’re scared and I know that you know I would never do something like this to you. Thank you for apologizing and I have no problem forgiving you. However, I would like to know why you think I would want you to leave.”

“I just accused you of trying to kill me,” Robin said quietly, his eyes suddenly fixated on the ground again. “That’s kind of a big thing and I thought that maybe it would be the last straw.”

“The last straw, Robin? You think you’re down to a ‘last straw’?!”

Batman nearly yelled the last two words and his voice was no longer emotionless. How long had his partner been feeling this way?!

“Well, you know, I make so many mistakes. Stupid mistakes that have bad consequences. Like getting kidnapped and then you have to take time away from protecting Gotham City in order to rescue me. And this wasn’t just stupid, it was idiotic. So, I would totally understand if you want me to leave. Batman can survive without Robin and Bruce Wayne can survive without Dick Grayson.”

There was a long pause and Batman watched several tiny teardrops fall to the ground underneath his ward’s head. He hadn’t seen this coming at all. Robin was always so cheerful, and Batman didn’t know how the boy could be harboring this feeling on the inside while maintaining his outward happiness.

“Nobody’s perfect, ki…Robin. We all make stupid mistakes once in a while. There is not, nor will there ever be, a ‘last straw’. The idea of kicking you out, as my ward or my partner, has never even crossed my mind. You’re stuck with me, old chum, for as long as you want to stay. Understand?”

Lifting his head, Robin stared at his partner and nodded. Thinking like this had been another stupid mistake. Bruce and Alfred would never willingly make him leave.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.

“Why are you sorry, _kiddo_?” the voice spit out the last word in disgust.

“Shut. Up!” Robin commanded quietly and the voice growled then disappeared. Batman took a step toward him, ready to keep him safe, but Robin’s face lit up with a real grin.

“Since we’re on the subject of kicking people out,” he half-smirked, “I think I just kicked what’s-his-name out of my head. I told him to shut up and he did.”

“You wish,” came the condescending snort. “And who, exactly, is ‘what’s-his-name’?”

The grin vanished and Batman took another step forward. “Robin?”

“Don’t tell me the name, Batman!” he exclaimed frantically. “Don’t give anything away! Talk about something else. How about those Gotham Knights?!”

“So, you have a suspicion. Or, Batman does, anyway. Is he on the right track Baby Bat? Tell me what you know!”

The last sentence was a command and Robin flinched.

Batman watched his partner’s mouth form silent words. His lip-reading skills were, of course, excellent and he knew exactly what Robin was saying: _hit me until I’m down_. Shaking his head, Batman refused the request.

Robin turned to face the nearest wall and ran. If Batman wasn’t going to knock him out to keep the voice from learning anything, he would do it himself. He was snatched away from the wall three and a half seconds before he would have slammed into it. His partner was holding him tightly around the waist and carrying him to the medical area.

“I won’t knock you out like that, Robin, and I won’t let you do it to yourself. But I will do this.”

Batman grabbed a syringe, filled it with Bat-knock out drops and pushed the needle into the vein in Robin’s left elbow. The boy’s body immediately relaxed as he slipped into a dreamless sleep. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, Lizzy!

**A studio apartment in Gotham City:**

So, Batman had an idea. But was the man on the right track? Fred was happy he had decided to look for Robin but also upset that the kid _still_ wasn’t dead. How many times would he have to command the kid to kill himself before it would actually work? And would his hold over the boy begin to weaken? It had been a while since Robin had been exposed to the gas and Fred hadn’t received any information about how long it would stay in the kid’s system.

“I should have figured out how to do it myself,” he growled. “I shouldn’t have asked that villain for help.”

“That” villain, however, was an expert when it came to chemicals. She was also beautiful, intoxicating and wanted Batman all to herself. Robin, however, kept getting in her way.

Fred had done his research. Out of all the villains, only two could create a mind-controlling gas out of some mixture of chemicals: Scarecrow and Poison Ivy. Scarecrow was in the State Pen and Poison Ivy wanted the boy dead anyway so Fred had tracked her down.

It had taken a year of searching, almost two months of begging for help, another month and a half of waiting for her concoction, six promises to bring her Batman after Fred finished with Robin and a potted Venus fly-trap every day for a week.

But it had been worth it. Poison Ivy had given him exactly what he needed. However, he had been so excited that he had neglected to question her about the substance. He hadn’t paid attention to the small yet important details: ‘how long does it last’ and ‘how soon will I have complete control’ and ‘how long should I expose him to the gas’ and ‘what is going to happen when I input information into the computer you gave me and a bunch of random words show up on the screen and I don’t know what they mean’.

Those were all things that he now wished he knew. It would take too long to try to find her again, though, so he had no choice. At least he had a small lead – talking to Tynt about DJ Peg. But how was that going to help him with nibor.a?

With a frustrated sigh, Fred went back to bed.

* * *

**The Batcave**

It was nearing noon and Robin was lying on a padded medical table, still in a heavy slumber. Batman was sitting on a chair right next to the makeshift bed, deep in thought. The normal adult dosage of Bat-knock out drops, the hero decided, had been too strong for his young partner’s body. He should have known that but, in his haste to make Robin sleep, he had automatically filled the syringe with the amount that he always used. Of course, he had never had to use it on Robin – and his much smaller body size – but it was definitely something he should have realized. Neither Alfred nor Bruce Wayne would forgive Batman if Robin died from an overdose of _Bat_ -medicine.

“Hey.” 

The drowsy whisper pulled the Caped Crusader out of his thoughts and he looked up. Robin had allowed his head to roll over his right shoulder and was staring at his older partner. The blue circles were surrounded by streaks of red and the boy was obviously having trouble keeping his eyes open. 

“Hey, yourself,” Batman smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” came the soft reply and Batman was not at all surprised. The next sentence, however, was unexpected.

“I don’t think the ‘A’ is just a letter,” Robin began. He tried to sit up but gave in when Batman stood up and shook his head.

“The word was ‘nibor.a’, right?” the Boy Wonder continued and Batman nodded. He was slightly confused but was willing to see where this was going.

“Could it be backwards? Because if you turn it around it says ‘a robin’. Maybe the period is supposed to be a space?”

Robin’s voice was a little stronger, but he was still wearily whispering.

“A robin. That’s an interesting thought. How did you come up with it?”

“I don’t know,” the boy replied, fatigue surrounding every word. “It was just in my mind when I woke up. How long have I been out?”

Glancing at his Bat-watch, although he already knew down to the second, Batman replied, “Almost twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours?!” Robin nearly shouted, his eyes widening in shock. “How many Bat-knock out drops did you give me?!”

Grimacing slightly, Batman admitted, “The normal adult dosage. I wasn’t thi…”

“Thinking,” Robin interrupted him, his tone laced with amusement. “I needed to be knocked out and you’ve never used any other type of dosage.”

“That doesn’t excuse the mistake, Robin,” Batman growled in frustration. “You could have _died_ because of me! You’ve already been hurt…”

“Stop,” Robin declared, interrupting again. “I’m alive and relatively uninjured so stop trying to lay more blame on yourself.”

“Almost every injury you have is _because_ of me!” Batman yelled and Robin flinched.

Sighing, the Caped Crusader dropped onto the chair he had just vacated. Deciding to change the subject, he inquired, “Do you remember anything about last night?”

Robin had pushed himself up to sitting and was staring at the bandaged tips of his fingers. “Everything I told you,” he replied with a frown. “But something is missing. I can’t figure it out, it’s at the edge of my brain and I can’t catch it. I don’t know…” he trailed off and this time it was his words that were wrapped in frustration.

Alfred chose that moment to enter the Batcave. “Good morning – or rather, afternoon – young sir!” he stated, his tone filled with delight.

“Hey, Alfred,” Robin replied softly.

“Lunch,” the butler proclaimed and both members of the Dynamic Duo were surprised that they hadn’t noticed the silver tray in Alfred’s hands. He set it down on the nearest table and clasped his hands behind his back. Neither crime-fighter moved, and Alfred almost rolled his eyes.

“It’s time to eat, gentlemen. You both skipped breakfast and it is now half-past noon. If you would be so kind, please come over here and eat.”

Robin’s stomach suddenly agreed with Alfred and the boy slid off the medical table. He swayed slightly but held up his right hand when Batman stood to help him.

“I just got up too fast,” the Boy Wonder stated as an excuse. His head was pounding, his torso was throbbing, his wrists ached, and he wanted to go back to sleep. Batman, however, didn’t need to know any of that.

* * *

**Late afternoon:**

Batman stormed into Wayne Enterprises, fury both on his face and in his mind. He had wanted to meet Fred Scott in the morning, but Robin was more important. The teen needed all the reassurances he could get, and the man refused to allow the boy to wake up without his guardian by his side.

It was nearing five o’clock and most of the employees were beginning to pack up for the day. Not even sparing a glance at the security desk, Batman strode quickly down the hallway and arrived at the IT department less than thirty seconds after entering the building.

All eyes immediately turned in the direction of the glass doors when the Caped Crusader marched through them. The majority of the faces were filled with either surprise or shock. _Batman_ had come to Wayne Enterprises and everyone could see the rage radiating from his usually-emotionless eyes.

Ignoring the stares of astonishment, Batman stomped into the department manager’s office without knocking. The hero slammed the door behind him and yanked on the cord that snapped the blinds shut. Fred looked up, startled, and was greeted by one of the darkest, fiercest Bat-glares that Batman had ever used.

“Why?” the Caped Crusader growled menacingly. He stood directly in front of the man’s desk, arms folded across his chest and entire body tense with anger.

Fred’s expression went from fear to confusion. Why was Batman in his office? What did the man want from him? And how was he supposed to answer a one-word question that made no sense?

“What do, uh, you, um, mean?” he stammered, and Batman almost rolled his eyes.

“You’re actually going to try to play dumb?” the Caped Crusader snarled in disbelief.

“I…I don’t…wh…what?” Fred stuttered.

A sudden understanding flooded his mind. Was _his_ name the one Robin had been trying to withhold from him last night? But how had they figured it out? He had covered his tracks so well and so completely!

“Why do you want Robin dead?!” Batman yelled, leaning forward and placing his palms on the man’s desk. Their faces were eight inches apart and Fred unconsciously, automatically, leaned back.

“ _WHY_?!” Batman thundered and Fred flinched.

Refusing to give himself up so easily, the man replied, “Why would I want your sidekick to die?!” He managed to sound incredulous and was proud of his ability to stay in control while in the face of such obvious danger.

Batman, however, heard the tiny trace of guilt outlining the words and growled again.

“ _TELL. ME!_ ” he roared, slamming his right hand on the desk.

That did it. Both rage and sorrow filled the older man’s mind and swept down his body. He stood up and glared at the man who had ruined his life.

“So you will know what it feels like!” Fred shouted.

This time there was grief in the tone and Batman was surprised at the sound. At least now he knew part of the answer. Robin had been correct: the man hated Batman and wanted revenge through Robin.

“What _what_ feels like?” the hero snarled quietly.

“Regret,” Fred snarled right back. “Regret that you couldn’t save the person you cared about even though you were _right there_!”

“You think I don’t know how that feels?!” Batman shouted. “You have no idea how many times I have seen Robin lying on the ground, _DYING_ , and knowing that if I had been there even ten seconds later...” The Caped Crusader trailed off as memories and images filled his mind.

“But he hasn’t,” Fred replied, his voice full of fury that was surrounded by distress. “In order for you to completely understand, your little Robin has to die!”

The man paused, closed his eyes and searched for the Boy Wonder. Batman stared at him, waiting for him to continue, not knowing that he was attempting to find and defeat Robin. The pause was long and the Caped Crusader narrowed his eyes.

“He has done nothing to deserve this,” Batman stated in a low, dangerous tone.

There was no reply and the hero wanted to punch the guy in the face. However, there were certain boundaries that honorable crime-fighters were not allowed to cross. Attacking a sixty-something-year-old man who was physically non-threatening was one of them.

* * *

**Wayne Manor:**

“I don’t care how you do it, Robin, but find a way to die and do it NOW!”

Dick, who had been close to falling asleep again, snapped his eyes open. Batman had assured him that this wasn’t going to happen. He had gone to confront the man doing this almost an hour ago. Something must have happened to his partner!

Sitting up, Dick glanced around the living room. He was on the sandy colored couch and Alfred was in the light-blue armchair on the boy’s left.

“Are you okay, Master Dick?” the butler inquired.

“Something’s wrong,” Dick whispered. “Something…Batman…I don’t know.”

The teenager abruptly jumped to his feet and raced toward the study.

“Master Dick!” Alfred called. “Stop! What are you doing?!”

Dick heard his name but ignored the call. He knew where Batman was and, since the bad guy had contacted him, Batman was obviously in trouble. Roughly pulling back the head of the bust, Dick twisted the switch, waited impatiently for the bookcase to slide out of the way then flew to his Batpole.

* * *

**Wayne Enterprises:**

The silence stretched on. Batman was being semi-patient for once, waiting for Fred to regain control of his emotions. That’s what the hero assumed the man was attempting to do. It was a dangerous assumption, but why would Batman suspect that the criminal would try to kill Robin while being questioned by the boy’s partner? However, it had been almost three minutes and the man hadn’t moved.

“Do it to me instead,” the Caped Crusader suddenly demanded loudly.

Fred’s eyes flipped open and he grinned. “Too late,” he taunted softly. “It’s done.”

Batman couldn’t stop himself this time. He strode around the desk, grabbed the man’s arms and pushed him up against the wall.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he thundered, right in Fred’s face.

“He thought you were in trouble,” came the reply. “His mind was full of panic and he jumped on some sort of vehicle. Does he know how to drive yet? From the loud, metal-crunching sounds I just heard, the answer seems to be negative. I lost him after that. The connection faded slowly, though, so he probably suffered before dying.”

Batman’s eyes widened in horror. The arrogant man had commanded Robin while standing in front of the Caped Crusader! And he, the “hero”, had let it happen!

“Where is he?!” the crime-fighter demanded. Fred merely shrugged, as best as he could with his arms being held immobile.

Dropping his hands, Batman raced to the door and flung it open. Six pairs of startled eyes looked up at him. 

“Don’t let him out of that office!” the Caped Crusader growled loudly. The four men and two women just stared at him, eyes full of questions.

“ _UNDERSTAND_?!” Batman roared and everyone immediately nodded.

He hoped the employees would obey but, just to be sure, he repeated the instructions to the security guards before sprinting out the front doors. The larger one, a twenty-year member of the staff and former Marine, instantly left the desk and posted himself in front of the office door of the IT department manager.

* * *

**The road to Gotham City:**

He had driven the Batcycle several times, always slowly and with Batman following closely in the Batmobile. But never had he driven it while frantically attempting to race to his partner’s rescue. The curve was sharp, the inexperience manifested itself and the Batcycle flew off the road.

Just like the Batmobile, the Batcycle had safety Bat-belts. Robin had conscientiously buckled himself and securely tightened the strap before leaving the Batcave. It was ironic, he mused as the Batcycle flew through the air in slow motion. The thing that was supposed to save him was actually going to make it easier for him to die. Crossing his arms across his torso in order to try to protect his ribs, the Boy Wonder closed his eyes and waited for the bone-crushing pain to begin.

The handlebars hit the ground first, flipping the Batcycle forward. Robin missed the ground by two inches and the next part to land was the back wheel. It hit the side of a large rock and was shoved sideways. The teenager’s right shoulder connected with the ground and there was a loud ‘pop’ as the Batcycle’s weight forced itself on the joint. The landing substantially slowed the momentum and the small vehicle didn’t flip again. Instead, it slid across the gritty dirt, tearing holes in both Robin’s uniform and skin. He opened his eyes, saw the tree and knew he was going to hit it head-first. Instinctively, the Boy Wonder curled his torso in toward his hips and moved his arms from his chest to his head.

It was the handlebars that hit first again, slamming against the thick trunk and spinning the Batcycle away from the tree but towards the large boulder just seven feet away. Robin’s bruised wrists smashed into the handlebars and his bruised torso attacked his knees. He faintly registered the sound of bones cracking but couldn’t figure out where the noises originated. The underside of the Batcycle wrapped the boulder in a hug, the teenager’s now-unprotected head hit the solid dirt and, finally, everything stopped moving.

* * *

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

Batman grabbed the Batphone extension right before he took off in the Batmobile.

“Yes, Co…”

“Thank heavens, sir!” Alfred interrupted. “I’ve been trying to reach you for five minutes! Robin took the Batcycle, sir, and I don’t think he’s by himself!”

“The tracker! Did you check…”

“No, because it’s right here,” the butler uncharacteristically interrupted again. “It must have fallen off when he left.”

“His starts do tend to be a bit jerky,” Batman murmured. “I’m leaving Wayne Enterprises right now. He has to be on the back road somewhere. I’ll find him, you prepare to fix him up.”

“Right, sir,” Alfred declared and heard a distinct ‘click’ in his ear.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, Lizzy and kai06leaf!

Robin slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring at the strong branches of a large, familiar oak tree that was four and a half miles away from the Batcave. Why was his body one large ache?

Sighing, the Boy Wonder attempted to sit up. It didn’t work and he began evaluating his situation. Headache, probable dislocated right shoulder, something wrong with his wrists, ribs throbbing and right leg pinned underneath the Batcycle. Why had he been on the Batcycle?

“Batman!” the teenager called.

His lungs protested the harsh release of air and Robin shut his mouth. Batman would be here soon anyway. The Caped Crusader would never let the Boy Wonder drive the Batcycle without supervision. All Robin had to do was be patient.

_Might as well take a nap_. 

Something warned him to stay awake but he couldn’t move so why not rest? He was tired and sore and…

“How are you feeling?”

The voice, Fred, was back. Batman was in trouble and Robin was supposed to be helping him, not lying on the ground just because he was in pain. Now he understood: taking the Batcycle for a ride had been his latest attempt – no, _Fred’s_ latest attempt – at death.

“Are you still there?”

Ignoring the voice in his mind, the teenager closed his eyes and struggled to force every thought out of his brain. Sixteen seconds later, he opened his eyes and carefully moved his left arm, searching for the safety Bat-belt’s clasp with his left hand. To his surprise, it was still tightly closed. He worked on it for several minutes, pulling and finally yanking on the clasp. It popped open and Robin breathed a sigh of relief. Now if only he had superhuman powers and could lift the Batcycle off his leg.

He was concerned about his leg for two reasons: it was numb and there was a small river of red sliding away from its approximate position. The pain radiating through the rest of his body was becoming overwhelming and Robin was leaning toward going back to sleep.

“Well, I can feel pain but you must be unconscious. Probably dying, which is perfect. In case you can hear even a little bit of this, Batman is standing in front of me, asking me why this is happening. Your strength is fading; I’m pretty sure you will soon take your last breath.”

Desperately trying to keep his mind blank, the Boy Wonder continued to ignore the voice as best as he could. Batman was with the man, though, which meant he was safe and Robin didn’t have to be in such a hurry. He couldn’t stop the thought that jumped into his mind and, in fact, he didn’t want to. If he could convince Fred that this was his last thought, maybe the man would leave him alone.

_Batman._

Robin drew the word out, unintentionally whispering it as the name rolled through his mind. He left it there and waited, hoping this would work.

“How sweet, your last thought is about your partner. He’s on his way to find you but we both know he’s already too late to save you. Just so you know, this was nothing personal against you.”

The Boy Wonder felt the abrupt severing of the connection. A slight grin slid across his face – it had worked. Now he just had to figure out a way to get the Batcycle off.

He was lying on his back and knew that sitting up would be impossible. However, his left leg and both arms were free. They were sore but he could both feel and move all three. The main problem was the fact that the vehicle was almost flush against the boulder. There was no space to push it directly away; it would have to go either sideways or up and over. But he had no leverage either way.

However, he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to stay alive. Bleeding out was a possibility, since the small river was now forming a pool around him. Robin knew he didn’t have time to wait for his partner. The Batcycle needed to be moved immediately.

Grabbing the handlebars, the Boy Wonder pulled as hard as he could. At the moment, he was grateful that his right leg was completely numb – the pain would have been excruciating. The front end of the Batcycle moved toward him a few inches, which was both good and bad. He now had some space to maneuver the bike but if his grip failed then his chest would be crushed.

Robin was exhausted but he really didn’t feel like dying. His left leg was on top of the vehicle but he needed it to be underneath. Fortunately, the back wheel was slightly off the ground, just high enough for his lithe limb to slide under it. He balanced the metal wheel cover on his knee and then pushed his foot against the boulder. Nothing happened.

He needed to be able to generate more force and supporting the metal with his knee wasn’t going to allow that. So, the teenager shoved the joint into the small space between the wheel cover and the actual wheel. It was more stable but it was going to make the next part more painful. His only other option, however, was death.

His arms were shaking now, the weight of the front end of the Batcycle was becoming too much for him to bear.

“Last chance,” Robin grunted softly.

The Boy Wonder shoved his knee upward and pushed against the boulder as hard as he could. The vehicle wobbled then steadied and, six seconds later, flipped over his head. It took his left leg with it and now he was stuck in an awkward, upside down split with the Batcycle mere inches away from his head.

Robin released the handlebars and grabbed his left thigh. He yanked it over and over, silently pleading with the vehicle to release his knee. It took almost ninety seconds of continual pulling and, just when he was on the verge of letting go, his knee popped out. Pain exploded in the joint and he was relatively sure that something had been torn apart. But, more importantly, he was free.

He still couldn’t feel his right leg and he really didn’t want to look at it. However, the bleeding needed to be stopped and the only way he could do that was if he could see the injury. Robin took a deep breath and pushed himself up with his arms. The leg came into view and he grimaced. It was as bad as he had pictured in his head.

The Batcycle had completely crushed his shin, which had taken the brunt of the impact. Several large slivers of white were poking through his skin and the majority of the blood was leaking through the resulting holes. The teenager’s foot was facing the wrong way and his knee was shaped like a tilted triangle.

Both dizziness and nausea washed over him at the sight, so Robin closed his eyes. He was in a boatload of trouble. Batman probably had no idea where he was and it was going to be virtually impossible for him to make it back to the Batcave in this condition. Not only was his leg severely injured, but it also hurt to breathe, and he could feel the stickiness of drying blood on the entire right side of his body. But _virtually_ impossible is not _completely_ impossible. He was, after all, Batman’s sidekick.

Robin unclasped and removed his golden cape. It had been shredded on one side, just like everything else that had been unfortunate enough to slide across the dirt during his latest adventure. Gritting his teeth to block out the pain, the Boy Wonder wrapped the material around his right leg. The cape was able to go around his shin twice and covered almost all of the bloody areas. But he knew it wouldn’t completely stop the liquid from dripping out of him.

Grateful again that he couldn’t feel that leg, Robin turned over so he was on his hands and balanced on his left knee. That joint couldn’t support his weight because of his earlier actions so he lifted his hips and balanced on his left foot instead.

“I look like a fool,” the teenager grumbled softly as he slowly began traveling away from the scene of the accident.

Robin walked his hands forward as far as he could without collapsing to the ground then rotated his left foot side to side until it caught up to his hands. His right leg trailed uselessly behind him and the movements allowed the pain from that injury to register in his mind.

The teenager’s dislocated shoulder burst into flames, his wrists suddenly gave out and he crashed to the ground. Fiery pain consumed his entire body and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming. Lifting his upper body, he began to army crawl across the dirt, determined to make it home so Alfred could work his magic on the mangled leg. Robin’s shoulder began continuously yelling at him, but the slight pain of a dislocated joint was irrelevant compared to everything else. He was going to make it to the Batcave; his shoulder would just have to deal with it. 

* * *

The Batmobile screeched around the corner and immediately slammed to a stop. Batman saw the boulder, the black and red metal wrapped around it dancing in the fading sunlight. Climbing out, he sprinted to the object, hoping that he wasn’t too late. He reached the tangled remains of the Batcycle and was both surprised and relieved when he realized that his young partner wasn’t in the mess.

The sun disappeared completely so Batman took out his Bat-flashlight. He immediately noticed a large, dark and irregular shape on the ground between the boulder and the vehicle. Crouching down, he instantly identified it as blood – the smell and stickiness were easily recognizable. Standing up again, he shined the light around the entire area and grimaced. There was blood everywhere: the large circle right next to the handlebars, short, scattered lines going in all different directions and a thick, solid trail leading away from the scene.

Batman raced along the scarlet path as fast as he possibly could without losing it. There was a soft sound ahead, like somebody dragging something across the dirt, and the hero moved the light from the ground to the spot in front of him. The road was about twenty-three yards away and what he saw there astonished him.

Robin was dragging his body up onto the asphalt using only his strong arms. Batman couldn’t see the extent of his injuries, but the teenager hated looking weak and would be walking or at least crawling if at all possible. The fact that he wasn’t was very concerning and the Caped Crusader began sprinting again. 

“Robin!”

The boy stopped moving and slowly looked behind himself. There was a bright light jumping around and a large shadow behind it. He squinted his eyes, trying to identify the figure in case it was a threat.

“Batman?” he whispered when his partner was five yards away.

“I thought you were…he said you were gone, kiddo!”

“It worked,” Robin stated softly. Batman could hear surprise and a little bit of pride in the tone. The most prominent sound, however, was the agony.

Batman swept the light down to Robin’s toes and then back up to his head. He dropped to his knees and shined the Bat-flashlight in his young partner’s eyes. The light-blue circles were free from clouds but full of pain.

Robin squinted against the brightness of the light, so Batman turned its shine to the boy’s legs. The magnitude of the injury struck him immediately and he sucked in a deep gulp of air. How had his partner been able to stay awake?

The Boy Wonder’s cape was nearly shredded, and the Caped Crusader could see both the chunks of white and the crimson liquid surrounding them. Robin’s left leg looked much better, although the knee was practically flat against the ground.

Batman wanted to demand some answers: what were you thinking, why would you take the Batcycle out on your own, how did this happen, why didn’t you stay with Alfred? However, Robin was now breathing in abnormally spaced gasps and the man decided that the questions could wait.

“Liked it better when leg was numb,” the boy mumbled as he rolled onto his back. “Happen to have Batmobile?”

“Yes, kiddo, but this is going to hurt,” Batman replied as he set the Bat-flashlight on the ground.

Without waiting for a reaction, the older hero scooped the younger one up in his arms. The small body tensed and the gasping turned into rapid wheezing.

“Sorry,” Batman murmured as he began jogging instead of walking. The faster he could get Robin to the Batcave, the sooner he could relieve the pain. Even though it meant that, for now, the agony would be more intense. 

“Mhmmmm,” Robin mumbled in reply, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly Batman’s arms were empty. His eyes widened in alarm. He knew he hadn’t dropped the boy and he was sure that nobody had been with them. So how…?

“Robin?!” he yelled.

There was a quiet chuckle, from _above_ him, and Batman snatched his mini Bat-flashlight out of his utility belt. He shined it toward the dark sky and was shocked to see his partner floating over his own head.

“What…how…?”

“I can fly?!”

The whispered statement was both a question and a comment.

“So that’s how it happened,” the teenager continued softly.

“How what happened?!” Batman exclaimed. “And get back down here!”

“Remember I, uh, fell off the roof but didn’t hit the ground?”

Batman nodded his head and immediately realized that Robin wouldn’t have seen it.

“Of course I remember! It was one of the worst moments of my life!” he growled.

“Before I hit the ground, I was…” he trailed off, not quite remembering how to form the word that would complete the sentence.

“Floating?” Batman supplied, his voice full of disbelief.

“Yeah,” Robin wheezed. “Ready?”

Before the Caped Crusader could reply, the Boy Wonder was falling. Batman dropped his mini Bat-flashlight and stuck his arms out just in time to catch the small body.

“You are _lucky_ that I have quick reaction times, kiddo,” Batman nearly growled again. “You need to give me more warning than a short word.”

“Sorry,” Robin said with another quiet chuckle. “I can fly.”

Shaking his head and wondering how he was going to explain this to Alfred, Batman resumed his jogging and arrived at the Batmobile less than thirty seconds later.

“Was it the gas?” Robin inquired, sounding like he was talking to himself. “But what else could it be? Man, that guy’s going to be so mad when he finds out. Instead of a dead sidekick, I’m a flying one.”

Batman almost laughed out loud as he buckled his young partner into the passenger seat. An image of Robin zooming through the air around Gotham City entered his mind and he grinned. Fred was really going to regret gassing the boy. The Caped Crusader was positive that this consequence was completely unexpected, otherwise the man wouldn’t have done it.

“I’m awesome,” the Boy Wonder whispered. “Do you think it will last forever? Maybe you should ask him where he got it so you can have some, too. ‘Course, it’s not very fun to have your mind controlled by a guy bent on revenge. I can’t feel my leg, that’s nice. Do you think Alfred can fix it? I mean, he’s amazing but I saw it.”

There was a pause and Batman wanted to assure his partner that everything would be fine. But, in truth, he didn’t know if Alfred would be able to completely fix the leg. Batman, who had seen many things in his life, had never seen a limb as battered and torn as the one attached to the right side of Robin’s body.

“I didn’t think so,” the teenager sighed. “But maybe I just won’t be able to do tricks anymore; maybe I’ll still be able to run and jump and…”

This time the pause was short as Robin thought of something.

“But I guess that doesn’t really matter because _I can fly_!”

The last three words were shouted and the boy began laughing crazily. Batman cringed at the noise – it was way too close to the sound of Joker’s laugh – and pushed his foot on the accelerator with a little more force. The sooner they returned to the Batcave, the sooner the teenager could abandon his thoughts to unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, Lizzy and kai06leaf!

“Robin, wake up!”

Batman had been yelling at his partner for over fifteen minutes. The steel door had slammed shut the moment he had entered the plexiglass prison almost six hours ago. He had searched for a way out while shouting the teenager’s name but there was no visible exit and no movement from Robin.

For the last three minutes, Batman had been on his knees by the Boy Wonder’s side. He had roughly shaken Robin’s shoulders, lightly slapped his cheeks, roared at him right in front of his face and, to his regret, had just slapped the boy hard enough to leave a mark. But a bruise was better than a coma, which was what was now concerning him.

What had been in that gas? Who was the criminal and where had he obtained the green stuff?

“Come _on_ , Robin! Don’t make me slap you again!”

“I can…fly?”

The words were quiet, and Batman stared at Robin incredulously as the boy opened his eyes. Clouds were drifting lazily across the light-blue circles and the teenager couldn’t focus on anything for more than three seconds.

“No,” Batman stated in answer to the question. He grabbed Robin’s face between his hands before continuing. “Look at me, kiddo. Right here, find my eyes.”

It took much longer than the Caped Crusader liked but eventually the Boy Wonder was able to focus on his older partner.

“Where…?”

“Right now we’re in a octagon-shaped room. You were in here alone and I could only watch as some sort of green substance filled the area. It took me a long time to find you and you’ve been refusing to wake up.”

“But…no, you’re wrong. Mind control and sleeping forever and Bruce poison and flying and killing myself and the leg even Alfred couldn’t fix! It’s been like three weeks!”

“Robin, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve been sleeping and the gas might have been poisoned but if you’re thinking about suicide…”

“No,” Robin interrupted. “ _Fred_ was trying to make me do it.”

“Who is Fred?”

“The IT guy at Wayne Enterprises. He was controlling my mind, remember? I almost jumped off a building, I fell off the roof of Wayne Manor, I crashed the Batcycle, you don’t remember my crushed shin or all the blood?”

The teenager’s voice was slightly panicked and the man was completely confused. It had been six and a half hours, not three weeks, and they hadn’t left this room at all. And there was no ‘Fred’ in the IT department of Wayne Enterprises.

_“Why don’t you remember?!”_ Robin suddenly screamed.

“Robin, there’s nothing to remember! You were covered in green gas and then I found you and now you’re awake. We’ve been here the entire time.”

“No,” the boy declared angrily. Pushing his partner away, Robin sat up and stared at his wrists. There were no finger-shaped bruises, not even any discoloration.

Frustrated, the teenager roughly pulled his tunic up. There were no bruises covering his torso, either. And his leg, which wasn’t at all bloody, looked perfectly intact.

Robin jumped to his feet, startling his partner, and raced to the far side of the octagon. Turning around, he sprinted back and, just before colliding with Batman, threw himself in the air. He waved his arms around, looking a lot like a baby bird, but immediately crashed to the ground.

“Why can’t I _fly_ anymore?!” the Boy Wonder shouted, infuriated with the fact that he had just lost his superpower.

Batman was completely baffled. Whatever was in that gas was strong. Robin seemed to be hallucinating but he was wide awake. There was no confusion in the light-blue eyes; the boy genuinely thought he could fly!

The teenager was on his stomach, breathing heavily. He growled and pushed himself up to his knees. How was he going to help Batman remember?

“Okay,” Robin began as he took a deep breath, “listen carefully.”

Batman was still sitting on the ground so Robin sat directly in front of him. Cupping the cowled face in his small hands, the Boy Wonder stared into his partner’s dark-blue eyes.

“I’m going to explain everything since you seem to have lost your memory,” the teen stated gently. “So just relax and listen and soon you’ll remember.”

Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Batman decided to let it play out. The teenager dropped his hands and took a deep breath.

“I was covered in gas and you woke me up.”

“Right,” Batman stated but Robin immediately shook his head.

“That happened three weeks ago, Batman,” the boy whispered soothingly. “So just let me explain. We went home and I slept for almost a day. Then we found out that my body was too weak to do any tricks or bar routines or patrolling for a few days. Then the voice started telling me what to do. He – we found out the voice belongs to Fred – was forcing me to try to kill myself. I nearly walked off the top of Wayne Enterprises, then a couple of days later I fell off the roof of Wayne Manor.”

“Robin, this is something I really don’t want you contemplating.”

“No, Batman,” the boy shook his head, annoyed with the interruption. “I’m not _thinking_ about doing them; I already did!”

“Are you thinking about dying, kiddo?”

“ _What_?! No, Batman, of course not! Fred wanted me to, he wanted revenge on you, but nothing ever happened when I fell.”

Dropping his hands, Robin stood up and walked away. Batman could hear him mumbling and caught a few words:

“…poor guy…remember…too traumatizing…”

“Robin, I don’t know why you think I’m traumatized. We have been sitting – well, you lying unconscious – in this room for almost seven hours now. I’ve been through worse than this.”

The teenager was pacing, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes thoughtful.

“I’ve got it!” he suddenly yelled.

He quickly returned and sat down in front of his partner again.

“Okay, Batman, think hard. What does the name ‘Fred’ mean to you?”

“It’s just a name, kiddo. And there’s nobody named ‘Fred’ in the IT department.”

Sighing, the Boy Wonder tried again. “What about humatronic poison? No, wait! Let’s do word association. You tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Okay,” Batman stated, somewhat skeptical and still very confused.

“Bruce Wayne.”

“Millionaire.”

“Poison.”

“Ivy.”

“Flying.”

“Birds.”

“Batman.”

“Robin.”

At that answer, Robin grinned. It was pretty awesome that a hero like Batman would immediately think of _his_ name.

“Fred.”

“Barney.”

This time the teenager rolled his eyes. He should have seen that one coming.

“Fall.”

“Catch.”

“Mind control.”

“Unlikely.”

“Robin falling out of a double back.”

“Impossible.”

Another grin; that one had been thrown in for fun.

“Humatronic.”

“What?”

“DJ Peg.”

“Again, what?”

“Batcycle.”

“Safety Bat-belt.”

“Batmobile.”

“Off-limits.”

That answer was growled and Robin chuckled slightly.

“Dead.”

“Up.”

“What?” Robin asked in surprise. Batman shrugged; it was the first word that had come to his mind.

“Kill.”

“Joker.”

“Broken.”

“Bones.”

“Shredded.”

“Skin.”

“Okay, that’s just weird. Why would you think of shredded _skin_?”

“What’s your point, Robin? Why are we doing this?”

“To help you remember!”

Batman sighed. “I remember that we’ve been here too long and that the gas is really affecting your mind and that we need to get out of here.”

Standing up, the Caped Crusader walked over to the steel door and pushed it as hard as he could. Nothing happened so he slammed his right shoulder into it. Just as he was about to do it again, a small blur flew past him and hit the door hard.

Robin dropped to the ground and gasped for air.

“Well, that wasn’t your smartest idea ever,” Batman commented, amusement outlining the words.

“I thought that maybe my flying superpower could have been replaced by a super strength one. That would be pretty cool, too!”

“You don’t have superpowers, kiddo. You’re an average, ordinary, every-day crime-fighter, just like me.”

“You’re right,” the teen stated sadly, “I don’t have superpowers anymore.”

“Or _ever_ ,” Batman replied.

“You seriously don’t remember seeing my shin bone sticking out of my skin?”

“I’ve seen it broken _under_ your skin but never on the outside.”

Suddenly Robin grabbed his head and began wheezing.

“Robin! Talk to me!”

“Hurts,” he muttered as he hands turned white against the black of his hair.

“Stop pushing, Robin, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

The statement made no impact on the boy’s brain, so Batman grabbed the slim wrists and forced Robin to let go.

“Sorry, Batman,” the teen whispered as he slid to the ground and went limp.

“Robin! Robin, come on, chum! Don’t do this again!”

A screeching sound came from beside them. In his peripheral vision, Batman saw the steel door sliding open. He didn’t waste any time, instantly snatching Robin off the floor and racing into the maze he had exited nearly six hours ago.

* * *

**Fifty-six minutes later:**

He had made it out much faster than he had going in even though he was carrying his partner. Batman walked down the hall that led to the revolving room, hoping that it would lead to a way out. This path had been the only choice; there were no other halls or rooms or trails or mazes or anything.

Stepping over the threshold, the Caped Crusader gently laid the Boy Wonder on the ground and began searching. The steel door slammed shut and the room began spinning. Batman growled as he was tossed against a wall and could only watch as Robin’s body hit a different wall.

The spinning stopped mere seconds after it started and the steel door immediately opened. Batman was dizzy and almost fell on top of his partner when he bent to pick the boy up. Robin unexpectedly opened his eyes and, luckily, caught the man’s chest and shoved it away. He stood up as Batman stumbled back.

“Where are we?” the Boy Wonder asked.

“Let’s get out of here first and then we can talk,” the Caped Crusader replied.

They turned toward the exit and strode through the open door. Batman was surprised to find that they were at the entrance to the building, where they had begun their latest adventure nearly eight hours ago.

“Did we already win? I don’t remember fighting anyone.”

Robin’s voice was both confused and thoughtful.

“I don’t know and we didn’t,” Batman responded.

“How can you not know if we won?” the boy asked incredulously.

“We didn’t fight anyone so there was nothing to win.”

“Oh.”

There was a short pause and then Robin continued, “Then what happened? Why are we leaving when we’ve only been here for a few minutes? Shouldn’t we investigate?”

“Robin, we’ve been here for almost eight hours. Do you remember _anything_?”

The Boy Wonder scrunched up his face in concentration. Two minutes later he shook his head and sighed.

“Just that we walked into the building.”

“Let’s go to the Batcave, chum, and I’ll explain what I know. Maybe that will jog your memory and you can explain what you know.”

Nodding, Robin followed his older partner to the Batmobile. He started to open the door but his hand began shaking. The handle became too heavy, the teenager couldn’t lift it, and he looked at Batman in alarm.

The older hero had already climbed in and started the vehicle. Surprised that Robin wasn’t already inside, he glanced to his right and saw the concern radiating in the light-blue eyes.

“What’s wrong, chum?”

“I, uh, can’t open the door.”

Robin held up his right hand, which was now trembling vigorously. Batman’s eyes filled with concern, also, and he immediately climbed out of the Batmobile. The boy’s entire body was quivering by the time the man made it to the passenger side.

“Sit down, Robin!”

The teenager dropped to the ground and Batman crouched beside him.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” the Boy Wonder whispered. “What happened in there?”

“You were in room full of green gas for four hours,” the Caped Crusader replied. “I don’t know how long you were unconscious before I found you, but you didn’t wake up for close to two hours after I arrived.”

“WHAT?!”

“I also don’t know what was in the gas; it was gone by the time I got there.”

“You couldn’t find me for four hours?!”

“I was in a giant maze,” Batman grumbled defensively. “It wasn’t a normal maze so it took me longer than it should have to find the door to your prison.”

“Did you give me a Universal Drug Antidote Pill?”

“No, because I don’t know what was in the gas. There could be an adverse reaction if I had given you one without knowing the ingredients.”

“Isn’t that why it’s _universal_?!” Robin exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s universal to everything we know about – everything known villains can concoct. Each villain has a specific base formula. They start with that and then add things. Universal means that the Bat-pill can counteract every base formula from every villain we have ever gone up against. However, I have no idea who this criminal is and I’m not going to risk your life by giving you a Bat-pill without knowing the consequences!”

“I hate new villains,” the Boy Wonder muttered. “On the plus side, I’m not shaking anymore. Can we leave now?”

Batman was surprised; he hadn’t even noticed that the boy’s body wasn’t trembling.

“I’m putting you in the Batmobile myself,” the Caped Crusader stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t need you collapsing again.”

Robin nodded but it was an unnecessary reaction. Batman had already scooped him off the ground and was now placing him on the passenger seat.

“I can buckle myself,” the teenager grumbled but the man had just snapped the safety Bat-belt together.

Striding around the still-running vehicle, the hero climbed in and took off in the direction of the Batcave.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, kai06leaf, Lizzy and DebbieF!

“I really hope this doesn’t happen again,” Robin mumbled as the Batmobile cruised through Gotham City.

The teenager was definitely talking to himself this time. Batman recognized the tone and knew the words were quiet for a very specific reason. Robin didn’t want his partner to hear the thoughts he was voicing.

“How did we rewind? Was it us? Did he use a different gas when we were going home? No, he couldn’t fill the Batmobile with gas, that’s idiotic. Did you catch him?”

The last sentence was loud and full of alarm. Batman had no idea of the identity of ‘him’.

“No, because we didn’t fight anyone. The last person we caught was Penguin and that was two days ago.”

“Gosh, Batman, this is ridiculous. I wish you could remember. Did you hit your head?”

“No, chum,” the Caped Crusader repeated. “We walked into the building we just left behind and were immediately separated by a steel door with no handle. The room I was in began spinning then I was released into a long hallway. I heard a voice, saw you in the plexiglass prison and watched green gas fill your room. Then I entered a maze and it took me four hours to find you. When I finally located the door, it immediately slid open and revealed you lying unconscious on the floor. It took you, like I said earlier, nearly two hours to wake up and now here we are, driving to the Batcave while you try to make me remember something that didn’t even happen.”

“No,” Robin countered, “I woke up and you weren’t even there. I was in a lush valley and tried to drown myself in the lake but it was a hallucination and when I really woke up you were there. We went home and I slept for…I don’t even know how long. Fast-forward a little and I did a double-back off the high bar in the Batcave, intending to land on my head. But I caught myself and you almost called me an idiot.”

“Why would I call you an idiot?!” Batman nearly yelled. “And why would you be trying to land on your head?!”

“Fast-forward a little more,” Robin stated with no indication that he had heard the questions, “and the Bat-computer finally gave us some information. The name Bruce Wayne popped out and suggested that you had poisoned me with something called ‘humatronic poison’.”

“Robin! I would never…”

“I confronted you at Wayne Enterprises,” the teen continued, totally ignoring the incomplete comment. “You denied the accusation and I believed you but then I heard the voice again…”

“The voice?” Batman interrupted.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mention that. The same voice that told me to drown myself and also commanded me to jump off something high and land on my head. That’s when I flew off the high bar, like I told you earlier.”

“Robin!” Batman exclaimed quietly, completely shocked.

“Then,” the Boy Wondered continued without even reacting to his partner’s voice, “after we talked in your office the voice told me to go up to the roof. So, I did and walked off the edge before you could get there.”

“That’s eighty stories high, chum!” the man gasped.

“Can you just be quiet?!” Robin demanded. “I landed on a fire escape then you found me and we went home. More fast-forwarding and you, well, _I_ …”

The last word was full of pride and Batman shook his head as the Batmobile entered the tunnel leading to the Batcave.

“…figured out that the voice belonged to someone at Wayne Enterprises. You investigated but, before you could go do that, you and Alfred Bat-strapped me to my bed.”

“Robin!” the Caped Crusader exclaimed again, although this time it was a shout instead of an almost-whisper. “Why on earth…?”

Batman trailed off as he realized that he had just parked. The Dynamic Duo climbed out of the Batmobile, although the teenager did it much slower than he usually did.

“You had to!” Robin yelled back as he walked toward the medical area. “Anyway,” he growled, annoyed with the constant interruptions, “you went to investigate and I got out of the straps because of the voice. I climbed the roof of Wayne Manor and almost jumped off but tied myself to the weathervane. There was a storm, of course, with lots of lightning so I bent the metal and released myself.”

“I know you’re strong, chum, but there’s no way…”

“Well, it happened!” the boy snapped angrily as he climbed on a table. “Then I fell off the slippery roof. But I didn’t die because I was _floating_ …”

“Impossible,” Batman whispered incredulously. He had followed his partner to the medical area and was standing three feet away, searching the light-blue eyes for some sign of a concussion. That was the only plausible explanation for the bizarre story coming out of his ward’s mouth.

Shaking his head in irritation, Robin stated, “Shut up for a minute, will you?!”

It took only two seconds for him to realize what he had just said.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…shoot, I’m such an idiot.”

The only response was a Bat-glare and a pair of blue-covered arms folding themselves tightly across a muscular chest.

“I…can you, uh, disregard the last three sentences? Please?” the boy asked timidly as he dropped his eyes to the ground.

Complete silence reigned. It was broken thirty-two seconds later, when Alfred walked into the Batcave. The butler stopped when he saw the scene: Robin, on a medical table and slumped in…defeat?...and Batman, glaring angrily at the boy with his entire body tensed with…was that rage?!

No, Batman would get mad at his young partner but never had he been even slightly furious. And this was more than slightly, this was…Alfred didn’t even know how to describe the increasing force of the Bat-glare.

“Master Batman, Master Robin,” the butler stated as he strode toward the medical area.

“Not now,” Batman growled. “Continue.”

The last word was a command, so Robin began speaking again.

“Lots of fast-forwarding, I crashed the Batcycle and my leg was shattered and later I flew out of your arms – by myself, ending up floating over your head – and then I woke up back in…well, you know the rest.”

The long sentence was whispered and there was despair in the boy’s tone. Alfred wanted to say something but, apparently, the Caped Crusader knew it. Batman unfolded his arms and held up his left hand in the butler’s direction. So, Alfred remained quiet as he began checking Robin for injuries.

“I guess _this_ is the last straw, then,” the Boy Wonder muttered.

Batman had said that there would be no last straw but the man probably didn’t remember that. So far Robin had blamed him for poisoning the Boy Wonder – twice – and told him to shut up. That was in addition to all the other mistakes he had made in his entire life.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Batman growled.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would remember.”

Robin removed his mask and started to slide off the table. Alfred, however, was still searching for injuries and made a humming noise of disapproval. Dick Grayson sighed and stayed put.

“Answer me!” Batman demanded as he removed his cowl.

“We’ve been over this, Bruce. I’m an idiot sometimes, I make a lot of mistakes, I’ve accused you of trying to kill me and now I told you to shut up. Why would you want to keep me around? There has to be some limit to your tolerance of idiocy.”

Dick roughly ran a hand through his hair and Bruce widened his eyes.

“I’m done, Master Dick,” Alfred stated. “You have no visible injuries but I’m going to take a blood sample. Hold still, please.”

There was a quick prick, but Dick didn’t even notice. He was staring at the ground and wondering where he was going to go. Bruce, meanwhile, was rubbing his temples and trying to wrap his head around the words that had just come out of the teen’s mouth. A last straw?

“Dick, you’re not an idiot,” the man stated after several moments of silence. “You’ve never accused me of trying to kill you and I don’t expect perfection.”

“Well, it seems like you do.”

The words were mumbled and nearly inaudible.

“I expect you to put forth your best effort, Dick, but I don’t expect you to be perfect. I don’t understand why you think there would ever be a last straw.”

“That’s what you said before, too. I just…I’m not good enough, Bruce.”

The teenager sighed and the man shook his head.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, chum. We’ve never talked about this before and I’m not quite sure why we are now. And you will never be ‘not good enough’.”

Dick suddenly swayed and grabbed his head. The pain was intense and the teenager wished that his head would explode so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Without even realizing it, the boy slid off the table and melted into a pile of flesh on the floor by Bruce’s feet.

“Dick!”

Bruce dropped to his knees and forced the boy’s hands off his head. Dick’s eyes were closed and he was gasping. Every breath released a puff of green air and Bruce was both worried and hopeful.

* * *

**Three minutes later:**

“DICK, he fixed it!” Bruce exclaimed and the teenager opened his eyes, blinking against the bright light. The only thing he could feel was the slight ache of a dislocated shoulder.

Bruce was leaning over the boy, staring into his eyes and grinning.

“What…? Am I dreaming or hallucinating?”

“No, kiddo,” Bruce stated, too involved in his excitement to notice that Dick needed an explanation. “Alfred fixed it, the entire leg! It’ll take a few months of physical therapy but you’ll still be speedy, athletic Robin!”

“I thought…I’m, um, confused. We were just talking about the last straw, right?”

“No, that was yesterday,” Bruce said with a slight frown. “And there is no last straw, remember?”

“But… _you_ don’t remember. I was explaining and you were growling and I’m not hurt at all. Alfred checked me all over and said I was fine.”

Bruce was the one confused now. Why would the butler say the boy was fine when the list of injuries was long?

“I would never say something so ridiculous, young sir, when your body is in this state.”

Alfred’s voice was both incredulous and gentle. The statement brought the pain to the front of the teenager’s mind. It began with a throbbing headache, traveled down his bruised and scraped torso, hit both injured knees and raced out of his formerly-shattered right leg.

Dick gasped loudly and fell into the shadows from which he had just returned.

* * *

Fog filled his mind and Dick was completely lost in the near-darkness of his brain. Pain meant injuries but Alfred had just given him a clean bill of health. And Batman didn’t remember anything that had happened; he didn’t even know that Robin had been forced to try to kill himself several times!

Something was wrong. Everything was so real, but the boy knew that was impossible. He couldn’t be both extremely injured and perfectly fine. Alfred couldn’t fix a shattered leg that was uninjured. Batman, and his amazing memory, should not be forgetting that Robin had been under Fred’s influence even though Bruce had told Dick that there was no ‘Fred’ in the IT department at Wayne Enterprises.

A burning pain filled his chest and Dick gasped. It felt like his heart was going to explode out of his torso. He suddenly wished it would, just so the pain could be over. Then it was his head that was ready to explode. The teenager tried to grab it, tried to squeeze it, tried to squish his skull into his brain, but his hands were immobile. They were encased in something warm and unyielding. Something gentle and firm at the same time.

“…okay, just…out…kiddo.”

The voice was calm but full of concern and outlined with fear.

“You’re…sir…to…Bruce.”

Bruce. Dick knew that word, that person. He suddenly realized that the ‘something warm’ was actually the man’s calloused hands. And that he should open his eyes so the fear and concern would flee from Bruce’s quiet voice. But his eyelids were so heavy; no matter how hard he tried, Dick couldn’t loosen the glue that was securing them to his cheeks.

His focused was redirected when he felt a cool hand on his forehead.

“Rest, young sir.”

* * *

“It’s okay, just relax, Dick. In and out, just breathe, kiddo.”

Bruce tried to remain calm, but his ward was on the verge of hyperventilation. The puffs of green air were growing larger with each exhale, but Dick couldn’t seem to bring any oxygen back in.

“You’re doing well, young sir, listen to Master Bruce.”

Alfred’s voice was calm, even as his hands hovered over the heaving chest of the teenager. The boy was struggling hard to free his hands from Bruce’s grasp and the butler knew there would be bruises on the slim wrists.

Both men were relieved when Dick’s breathing evened out and he stopped struggling. They watched his eyelids flutter and saw the strain on his face as he tried to open them. Alfred placed a wrinkled hand on the boy’s forehead, a little concerned with the warmth he felt.

“Rest, young sir,” he stated quietly.

Looking over at Bruce, Alfred nodded. The younger man understood and let go of the teenager’s wrists and hands. Sliding his arms under the small body, Bruce gathered Dick into his arms, stood up, and placed the boy on the medical table.

Apparently, the movement had helped. Dick’s eyes slowly slid open, surprising both men. A final cloud of green floated away and the boy sighed before closing his eyes again. Alfred again placed his hand on the teen’s forehead and widened his eyes as he felt the heat drift away.

“He seems to be okay, Master Bruce. Perhaps his room would be a better place for him to rest, sir.”

Nodding wearily, the stress of the day had taken a toll on the man, Bruce again slid his arms under his ward’s body.

“I can walk, I’m not an invalid.”

The strong voice of Robin startled them. His light-blue eyes were completely open and one eyebrow was raised in disbelief.

“No, Dick, you were just…”

“Asleep, close to death, dead, unconscious, whatever,” the teen interrupted. “And now I feel great, although I’m a little tired. But being tired doesn’t mean that you have to carry me.”

Bruce stared at him incredulously and didn’t know what to say. His ward suddenly rolled away from his grip, off the table and landed lightly on his feet.

“This is real, right? I’m uninjured, I haven’t been trying to kill myself, I’m perfectly sane, right?”

“Yes, Dick, this is real. Your wrists are bruised but other than that…”

There was a lengthy pause and the boy stared at the man expectantly.

“You haven’t…I really don’t want…everything…”

Sighing, the teenager shook his head.

“Spit it out!” he commanded, although he wasn’t angry.

“You’re perfectly sane,” Bruce stated, skipping over the part about attempting death.

“There’s no Fred, my mind isn’t being controlled? I inhaled a bunch of green gas, was unconscious for a while and now I’m fine?”

“No, no, yes, yes, and I’m not sure yet.”

“And,” the boy stated with a grimace, “…I haven’t been trying to kill myself.”

“Dick, I don’t know why you would be thinking about that. Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Just answer the question, Bruce,” Dick growled through clenched teeth. “Have. I. Tried. To. Kill. Myself?”

“No, never.”

“I haven’t jumped off any buildings, or driven the Batcycle without you following, or done any sloppy tumbling?”

Dick’s voice was shaking slightly and Bruce could hear the tinge of panic.

“Nothing like that has happened, kiddo,” the man assured him. “Now, let’s put that thinking aside and go upstairs.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely, positively, without a doubt sure,” Bruce replied firmly. “You are alive and sane and would never do something like that.”

“It was so real,” Dick murmured as they began walking toward the Bat-poles. “I could feel myself falling, feel the wind rushing through my hair, see all the blood.”

“Do we need to talk about it, chum?”

“I don’t…I just…”

“Perhaps after a good night of sleep, young sir? Master Bruce, you both look rather worn out and this type of conversation requires a clear mind.”

“Okay,” they agreed at the same time.

Climbing onto their respective Bat-poles, they both grinned slightly then shot themselves up to the Manor.

“My word, this is going to be difficult,” the butler mused as he walked toward the service elevator. “I do hope they can both remain calm. Cookies will help, I’m sure. The girl scouts did deliver the thin mints yesterday…”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to kai06leaf and Lizzy for all your comments! Those are what keep me writing and posting. :)

**Epilogue:**

**The next morning:**

The first thing Bruce saw when he opened his eyes was the tousled dark hair of his ward. Dick was curled up at the foot of the king-size bed, fast asleep. Bruce sat up and, for a moment, just stared at the peaceful look on the youthful features.

“Stop staring,” Dick mumbled.

Bruce was not surprised that the teen could feel his gaze.

“How long have you been in here?” the man asked.

“Since you fell asleep,” the boy replied as he opened his eyes. “Figured I’d better be close in case I decided to jump off the roof.”

“Dick, it didn’t happen. You were drugged with something and it was all in your mind.”

“I know,” the teenager sighed, “but I was worried that maybe I was dreaming that all of this was a dream. And I knew that you could stop me if I tried to do something.”

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Bruce asked gently.

“It’s just…I mean…I’ve never even thought about killing, um, you know. You don’t have to…I don’t want you to worry about it. I would never do it; I would never _want_ to do it.”

“I know, chum. You don’t have to worry about it, either, okay? If anything like what you’ve been telling me ever happened, you know I would find a way to fix it.”

“But, what if you couldn’t? What if it _does_ really happen? What if I saw the future or something?”

“Dick, I’m going to go back to that building tonight. I’m going to find out who did this – and why and how – and then I’m going to come home and tell you everything.”

“I’m going with you!”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want you near that building. That green gas really affected you and I’m not willing to risk having that happen again.”

There was a long pause and then Dick nodded.

“I don’t want it to happen again, either,” he agreed quietly.

“Did you sleep at all, kiddo?”

“I tried. But every time I fell asleep, I saw myself jumping off a roof so I stopped trying around midnight. That’s when I came in here. I keep hearing his voice and there’s a lingering feeling of terror, but I don’t really _feel_ afraid. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Well, you were engulfed in gas for probably three or four hours and you thought you could fly when you woke up. Your dream was obviously extremely realistic so it’s not surprising that you’re still scared.”

“But I’m not! I’m not scared of him anymore and I’m not worried about doing everything he says because I know he’s not real. There’s no, um…what’s his name?”

The last three words were whispered. Relief flashed through the eyes of Bruce Wayne. Apparently, Dick was beginning to forget the small details. Hopefully, he would eventually forget everything. Bruce really didn’t want his ward thinking – every day – about realistic hallucinations of death.

Suddenly, the teenager’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards off the bed.

“Dick!” Bruce yelled, nearly jumping out of bed in his haste to get to his ward.

The boy was lying on his back, not moving. Bruce checked everything: Dick’s breathing was even, his pulse was steady and there was no blood around his small body. Gently, the man put a hand on his ward’s shoulder.

“Can you hear me, kiddo? Wake up for me; open your eyes.”

A puff of green air floated out of Dick’s mouth, just like the ones from last night. Then, he opened his eyes.

“Why am I on the floor?” he asked, confusion surrounding the question.

“You passed out and fell off the bed,” Bruce replied.

“Why was I on your bed?”

This question was full of bewilderment and the man didn’t know where to start.

“Do you remember anything?” Bruce asked after a short pause.

“I had some weird dream. We were checking out a tip and got separated and I was drugged with something and had a dream in the dream I was already having. Some guy wanted revenge so he tried to get me to…”

Dick paused, not wanting to say the words that he didn’t know Bruce already knew.

“That wasn’t a dream. It really happened, kiddo.”

“Are you serious?!” the boy shouted as he abruptly sat up. “I really tried to, uh, kill, um…I don’t know how to say this.”

“Oh, dear.”

Alfred’s voice floated in from the hallway, startling both of his charges.

“No, chum,” Bruce responded. “That part – attempting to kill yourself – was the dream. We did get separated and you did get drugged and the rest was all one realistic hallucination.”

“I would never, Bruce!” Dick nearly shouted again.

“I know, Dick,” the man replied evenly. “We just discussed this before you passed out but we can do it again if you need to.”

A bunch of tiny puzzle pieces began popping out of wispy clouds in the teenager’s mind. They floated toward each other and eventually revealed several giant memories. Dick saw everything, remembered everything, and relief filled his body.

The pause was long but both Bruce and Alfred waited patiently. Dick was staring at nothing but his eyes were full of a mixture of disbelief and amazement. That was followed by skepticism outlined with amusement and, after several minutes, relief. His entire body was tense but neither man was worried. It was obvious that things were coming together, so the men gave the boy time to process everything.

Finally his light-blue eyes re-focused and he whispered, “Wow.”

“Indeed, Master Dick,” Alfred stated softly.

“I know exactly what happened,” the teenager declared. “I remember every tiny detail and imaginary pain is filling my body.”

“Where does it hurt, chum?” Bruce immediately asked.

“Nothing hurts, I just remember it. It’s all just a tiny ache, everywhere that I was injured a tiny flash of pain raced across and disappeared. I’m fine, and I know who did it.”

“You…do?” the man said incredulously. “But we didn’t recognize the voice, and we’ve never seen that kind of gas.”

“Yes, we have,” the boy laughed. “It’s just never been green! Usually it’s pink! And it’s never lasted that long. Usually it dissipates after five or ten minutes!”

“I don’t understand, young sir,” Alfred stated.

“Why didn’t Ba…um, you, get drugged, also?” Dick queried with a grin.

“I’m lost, Dick,” Bruce reluctantly confessed.

“Who doesn’t really like me but _loves_ you?”

Bruce had no idea where his ward was going with this and that irritated him slightly.

“Get to the point,” he demanded, although his tone wasn’t even close to being angry.

“She’s been experimenting and wanted to try it out. It’s not hard to disguise a voice, especially when it’s so ghost-like. She didn’t want to worry about anything happening to you; that’s why she separated us first!”

“Dick,” Bruce growled.

“Think about it,” the teenager stated. “A female villain, doesn’t like me but won’t hurt you by killing me, doesn’t mind if _I’m_ hurt, loves unusual mazes…”

“Catwoman?!” both Alfred and Bruce exclaimed in disbelief.

“Exactly!” Dick nearly crowed. “I don’t know how she made it green but, if you think back to the voice, you could hear her distinctive ‘r’ sound. Close your eyes and concentrate on hearing that voice again.”

Bruce did as instructed. And then he heard it. Dick was right; the ‘r’ was rolled ever so slightly. That’s why the voice had sounded slightly familiar. But he had been so worried about Robin that he had completely ignored the tiny clue.

“Sometimes we’re kind of dense,” Dick commented with a chuckle. “In our defense, though, she did a good job with disguising everything. Green is definitely not her color, her gasses have never been that strong and she called me the ‘sidekick bird of a flying rodent’. Catwoman would never call you a _flying rodent_! She totally got us.”

“But what she did to you…” Bruce began angrily.

“Is over!” Dick stated with another chuckle. “Man, we are never going to live this down. She was probably watching the whole time we were in that building. I looked like an idiot – trying to fly, being angry at not having a superpower, passing out all the time. You were fine and I wasn’t. The perfect way for revenge without really doing anything to me!”

“You’re right,” Bruce murmured. “You weren’t really hurt but she had you terrified. I was worried but she knew nothing real was going to happen.”

“Well, I did pass out a few times and got shaky and had a headache and some other things but those are all little side effects. Probably nothing unexpected from a new drug. I can’t believe we fell for it!”

“This is a bit…embarrassing,” Bruce admitted. “You’re right, she’s not going to let us forget this anytime soon.” 

“If you are feeling better, Master Dick, perhaps you would be so kind as to get up off the floor. A quick examination is in order, young sir, especially since you fell backwards.”

The teenager did as he was told and, much to everyone’s relief, was proclaimed unscathed within five minutes.

“How are we going to get her back, Bruce?” Dick asked eagerly.

“Get her back? Why don’t we just find and arrest her instead.”

“Yeah, of course, but we have to do _something_! Besides, has she actually committed a crime yet? We can’t arrest her until she does.”

“Drugging a duly deputized member of the Gotham City Police Force is a crime, chum.”

“I’m not that important; she’ll be out in two days!”

“Master Dick, might I suggest that you go to your own room to clean up? Surely this is something you two can discuss over breakfast. Or better yet, after breakfast while writing up your report of yesterday’s activities.”

“Slave driver,” Dick declared cheekily, smirking at the ever-patient butler.

Alfred raised one eyebrow in both disapproval and amusement. The teenager saluted and dashed out the door, heading for his room and a shower.

“Not that important,” Bruce echoed. “He really takes himself for granted, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed, sir,” Alfred replied. “Now, perhaps you would also like to clean up. Breakfast will be ready in half an hour, Master Bruce.”

With that, the butler turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. Bruce turned toward the bathroom, pondering the thought of ‘getting her back’. Her plan, which Dick had described perfectly, was impressive. Not many people would be able to pull off a scheme like that: hurting the Boy Wonder without really hurting him and not allowing anything to happen to the Caped Crusader.

Grinning slightly, Bruce left one last comment hanging in the air as he disappeared into his bathroom:

“That darn cat.” 

THE END


End file.
